Lucifer: Inheritance Book 1
by sdmorrell
Summary: It's been almost forty years since the Devil retired from Hell to live on Earth-for good, this time. But within those years he chose to retire from consulting for the L.A.P.D. Now it's up to Sam, the Devil's own son and his new partner Joy to convince his father to leave his retirement and help them with a case. Turns out solving murders is really more of a family business...
1. Note before Reading

This story is supposed to take place way after the show's supposed end in season five. Since I don't exactly know how it will end, I'm leaving the way Lucifer is able to retire from Hell for good entirely up to you, the reader. All you need to know for the story is that the demons have all returned to Hell (save for Maze, of course) and have not dared to venture back to Earth, even without Lucifer there to keep them in line.


	2. Chapter One: Stubborn Old Goat

Detective Joy Roberts watches as her new lieutenant reads through her personnel file, his expression inscrutable as he goes over the recommendations and stats from her time in Narcotics.

"Well," he says after a long moment, closing the file with a snap. "I got to tell you, Detective Roberts, that is some high praise I just read."

She squirms in her chair. Yes, she considers herself a damn good detective, but she doesn't want this new lieutenant to think that she's full of herself.

"The credit doesn't just belong to me," she says, after some thought. "My CO was a wonderful mentor to me. And I worked with a good team."

"Of course, but don't sell yourself short." Lieutenant Martin leans back in his chair, clasping his hands behind his head. He's a tall man with dark eyes that are suspiciously kind for someone in his position. "Your former CO and teammates had some great things to say about you, and your closure rate is top-notch." His hands fall onto his desk as he leans forward. "But I have to ask…why the transfer over to Homicide? You were in a good position in Narcotics. Honestly, from what I just read it looks like you were being groomed for command, not just undercover work."

She has been expecting this question. Everyone at her last precinct had asked her the same thing. "I liked my team, but I didn't necessarily like being in Narcotics. I never really felt like I was helping people there." Her mouth turns down as she remembers her last undercover job. "I mean, yeah, I was getting drug dealers off the street. But most of them only do time for a few years before they are right back where they started. I want to be in a place where I can maybe do some real good, where I can make a difference."

She watches his reaction carefully. Her last CO had derisively called her an idealist, and her former team had been just as dismissive. She wonders if by being honest she has revealed too much of herself, has made herself a target for mockery.

She's relieved when the Lieutenant grins broadly, his teeth bright against his ebony-brown skin. "Congratulations, Detective Roberts. That's exactly the answer I was looking for." He holds out a large hand to shake. "Follow me. I'll introduce you to your new partner."

She follows him out of his office, half-jogging to keep up with his brisk stride. She smiles politely at her fellow officers as they pass, trying to conceal her trepidation. True, she worked with a team back in Narcotics, but for the most part she was on her own. She has never had a partner before. She has no idea how to even begin working with one. Unconsciously, her fingers arrange themselves like they would on a piano, tapping out "Fur Elise" on her thighs, a nervous habit she's never been able to break.

"Detective Decker." The lieutenant's deep voice booms across the precinct, making the people in front of them jump. "A word, if you please?"

She has to force herself not to ogle the man who turns away from his desk, a case file in one hand. He's incredibly good-looking, so much so that she wonders why he's here and not on one of the many movie sets that litter L.A. His black hair is stylishly mussed, framing a youthful face that could be anywhere between nineteen and forty. He's not quite as tall or broad as the Lieutenant, but she can see toned muscles under his white, button-down shirt. He has his badge clipped to black slacks, next to the gun holster at his hip.

There's an intriguing blend of confidence and danger surrounding him that she bets draws women like a magnet. Just standing near him makes her feel uncomfortably plain, with her auburn hair pulled back in a simple braid and the lackluster jeans and T-shirt that are her normal day wear.

Intelligent, blue-grey eyes darken in annoyance as Decker spots them.

"I just got a case, Lieutenant." His voice is a pleasant tenor, with a hint of an accent she can't quite place. "Can't this wait?"

"You got a case?" The Lieutenant asks, though it's clear that he already knew. "Excellent. This will be a great opportunity to get to know your new partner." He shifts so that Detective Decker can see Joy standing behind him. "Detective Roberts, meet Detective Sam Decker. He's one of our top Homicide detectives."

She holds out her hand but Detective Decker is too busy glaring at the Lieutenant. "I thought we agreed that I was going to hire back our civilian consultant?" He asks angrily. "Why are you giving me a partner?"

She drops her hand, where it goes back to playing a mini-concerto on her hip as her face flushes from the insult. He would rather have a _civilian __consultant_ than a seasoned detective?

The Lieutenant raises his brows. "You can still use your consultant—if he actually agrees to help." The Lieutenant sounds doubtful. "But even if he does agree, Detective Roberts is officially your partner, as of today. She's new to our precinct, so I expect you to teach her the ropes. Understood?" There is a dangerous note in the Lieutenant's voice that invites no argument.

Detective Decker still looks pissed off, but he nods. "Understood."

"Good." The Lieutenant turns to clap her on the shoulder. "Good luck, Detective Roberts. I'll be dropping by later to check on your progress." With a superior nod to Decker, he spins on his heel and returns to his office.

Decker continues to glare until the door closes behind the Lieutenant. "Dick." He mutters under his breath. But when his attention focuses on Joy, his eyes warm considerably.

"Not you." He says apologetically. "It's nothing against you. The Lieutenant and I tend to butt heads more often than not." He takes a deep breath. "But that's no reason to be rude. I'm sorry." He holds out his hand and favors her with an irresistible smile she's certain gets him out of all sorts of mischief. "Let's start over. Detective Sam Decker."

She hesitates a moment, still a little hurt by his earlier rejection. But she's a believer in second chances. She claps his hand in a firm handshake. "Detective Joy Roberts."

His expression turns curious. "I've heard that name before. Have we met?"

"I'm pretty sure I would remember you, if we did."

"True. I am a tough person to forget." His eyelids lower as he studies her, his smile turning flirtatious. "You definitely would remember spending time with me." She flushes at the innuendo.

Abruptly, his tone turns businesslike. "But I know I've heard that name before." He narrows his eyes, trying to place her.

She points to the case file, eager to distract him. "Is that the case?"

He glances down at the file as if he's surprised it's still there. "Oh, yeah." He opens the folder and moves so that they can look at it together. "Haley Sanders, age twenty-five. She was stabbed six times in the chest with a carving knife. Body was found in the alley behind the diner where she worked as a waitress six days a week."

"A carving knife?" She thinks out loud. "It probably would have come from the restaurant. Maybe a weapon of opportunity—he grabs the knife from her, stabs her with it?"

He nods. "I thought that, too. The crime scene is already processed. I'm just waiting to see what forensics can give us before I confirm a suspect." He checks his watch, a pricey one that she thinks cost more than her car. "That gives us some time to find our consultant and convince him to work with us. Come on, I'll drive." He grabs a black leather jacket from the desk and throws it over his shoulder.

"Why do you want this consultant so badly?" She asks as she follows him. Thankfully, his legs aren't as long as the Lieutenant's, so she can still keep up a conversation even at this pace. "Is he really that good?"

"He _was_, before he retired." Decker slips the jacket on over his shoulders. She notes that the jacket looks more like a blazer than a typical motorcycle jacket. "Our consultant was quite an asset to the L.A.P.D. back in the day." Decker takes the stairs two at a time but courteously waits at the top of the landing for her. He gives her an odd smile. "You could say he taught me everything I know."

Joy purses her lips. "You have so little faith in me as a partner that you feel the need to bring in a civilian?" She asks, a bit resentfully.

"Of course not." He assures her. "Truth is, I've been planning to bring him in for a while. I wasn't expecting to get a partner." He spreads his hands. "But the way I see it, a little extra help couldn't hurt. Besides," He adds, "this is actually more for him than it is for you and me."

"What are you talking about?"

He sighs. "Look, I promise I will explain but just…meet him first. All right?"

She considers this. "I guess if we're going to be partners, we're going to have to learn to trust each other. Might as well start now, right?"

"Right." He stares at her, a faint frown creasing his forehead. After a brief hesitation, his face clears and he gives her an easy-going smile. "Well, then we're probably going to have to get to know each other better, aren't we?" He motions for her to follow him and they head to the parking garage. "So, Detective Roberts, how long have you lived in L.A?" At her startled glance, he grins. "Your accent is a dead giveaway. I'd wager you grew up in the Midwest."

She wrinkles her nose at him. No matter how hard she tries, she hasn't quite been able to shake off her home state. "I grew up in Ohio. I've lived in L.A for the past two years." His eyebrows rise, but he doesn't ask how a girl from Ohio ended up in L.A. "Before this I was in Narcotics—" She nearly runs into him as he freezes in place, a look of recognition crossing his features.

"That's where I know you from!" He snaps his fingers. "You took down that drug lord earlier this year, what's-his-name…Marvin?"

"Martinez." She corrects him, and feels her face heat up. She doesn't want to talk about it, but he's too excited to notice her clipped tone.

"Right, that one. You were undercover for what…nine, ten months?" He beams at her with awed delight, as if she's just confessed to being a movie star.

"Eleven." Anger she thought she had buried comes rushing back, making her heart pound with adrenaline. "Eleven months I was undercover, working to bring him down." She curls her hands into fists. "Almost a full year of playing a role, all the surveillance, the meetings…"

Decker is startled by this response. "You're angry. Why? Eleven months undercover _and_ you take out one of the largest drug kingpins in L.A.-that's impressive work." Cold satisfaction creeps into his voice. "Not to mention that the maggot got what he deserved."

"But he didn't!" She explodes. "I spent all that time working the job, but two minutes after he's arrested, the D.A goes and makes some sort of sweetheart deal. Instead of getting a lifetime without parole, he's going to spend a year in jail, and then another on probation. A _year_. He killed innocent people, but because he flipped on his associates, he gets to walk." The injustice of it still scrapes her raw, and is the main reason she transferred over to Homicide in the first place.

She takes several deep breaths, keeping her eyes on the ground to avoid looking at her new partner. This tantrum wasn't at all professional, and now he's probably reconsidering working with her, would probably go to the Lieutenant the first chance he got to complain.

But when she finally dares to look at him, she doesn't see any hint disapproval, just assessment. "So, you went through all that work to take down a criminal and he only gets a year?" He clarifies.

She sighs. "Yeah. How's that for justice?"

"It isn't." Decker's eyes flash with temper. "He deserves to rot in a prison cell for the rest of his mortal life, not probation. He deserves to be _punished_." For one brief, crazy moment, she swears his eyes actually turn red with anger. He blinks and when she looks again, his eyes are back to a somber blue-grey.

It must have been a trick of the light, she decides. She finds his anger rather satisfying. Her former team had been old-timers, meaning that they had seen plenty of criminals walk due to a flaw in the system, and had been resigned to it long before she arrived. This is the first time she's found someone who is just as outraged by it as she is.

This unexpected show of solidarity warms her to him, and she dares to give him a rueful smile. "Yeah, it pisses me off every time I think about it."

Decker's expression turns pensive, and he rubs a hand over his mouth. "You know, this could end up working out better than I thought." He says, almost like he's talking to himself. "I thought having a partner might make things difficult, but now…" Suddenly his face splits into a grin. "Oh, he's going to _love_ you."

She stares at him. "Who's going to love me?"

"You'll see." He tugs her arm gently. "Come on, my car's this way."

"What is this?" She asks as she climbs out of Decker's slick, expensive car and stares up, up at the skyscraper in front of them. She's heard of the infamous nightclub Lux in passing, but hasn't had the time-or inclination-to visit. "This isn't your idea of a date, is it?"

Decker tosses the keys to the valet. "I'll have you know that I was raised better than that," he says with an affronted look in her direction. "I would never take any of my dates to a _nightclub_ at ten a.m. on a Tuesday morning. That's downright uncivilized." He leads her past the ornate fence outside the main doors and into the building. "No, we're here to talk to our civilian consultant. He happens to own the place."

"Your consultant is the owner of Lux?" She replies skeptically. Suddenly she puts two and two together. "Wait! Isn't the owner of this place that guy with the weird name…" She snaps her fingers. "Lucifer Morningstar. _He's_ our consultant?"

"He's technically not our consultant yet. We're going to have to talk him into it." Decker answers dryly as they reach the inside of the club.

This early in the morning there's hardly anyone in the room, except for a bored-looking bartender cleaning the glassware and one man nursing a beer over in a dark corner. The place smells faintly of alcohol and sweat, the music set low so they only get the faintest hint of bass under their feet. It's the apex of opulence, the entire space framed with black velvet curtains and marble pillars that would be more at home in an opera house than a nightclub. Dozens of velvet and leather upholstered lounge seats are splayed under a canopy of track lights, somehow managing to make the spacious room feel cozy and intimate. There are a few plasma screens scattered throughout the room, risqué videos set to a continuous loop.

They've entered the club on the mezzanine level, so she gets a good view of the dance floor below, but her eyes are drawn to the beautiful grand piano at the center of the room.

Her fingers itch to go over and touch the keys, to run a hand over the lid and feel the veneer under her palms. She loves music, has grown up playing the piano. At home, at school, anywhere she was allowed. Since moving to L.A, all she can afford is a tinny, electronic one she bought at a yard-sale. It has been years since she has touched a legitimate, classical piano.

Trying not to drool, she tucks her hands behind her back. Luckily her new partner is too busy watching a woman approaching them to notice, mainly because the woman is holding a—

"Is that a harpoon?" She blurts out, startled. She hasn't seen one of those outside a museum.

The woman runs a possessive hand down the weapon. "That it is. You have a good eye." She smiles provocatively as she saunters up the stairs to meet them. Joy has to admit the woman is gorgeous, with deep bronze skin and dark, curly hair. She's dressed like a cross between a dominatrix and a stripper, her lithe frame only barely covered by tight leather pants and a black corset-like shirt. She nods at Decker, but her eyes are all for Joy.

Joy is wearing a thick T-shirt layered under a suede jacket and jeans, but when the woman gives her that long, lascivious stare it feels as if she is standing there completely naked.

"I don't believe I've had the pleasure." she purrs.

Joy waits for the inevitable testosterone talk, waits for Decker to tell the other woman to back off.

She's completely stunned when he merely sounds amused. "Sorry, Maze, we're on a case. You'll have to wait your turn." He leans forward to give the woman a brotherly peck on the cheek.

It's an effort to keep her jaw from hitting the floor.

The woman shrugs. "Just as well. I don't have time to play-got a human to catch."

Decker nudges the harpoon with the toe of his shoe. "Who's the bounty this time, Moby Dick?" He asks wryly.

"Nah, just some chump who thinks he can avoid me by hiding out on fishing boats." The woman picks up the harpoon and points it at the wall. "Typically, I'd just use knives to get the job done, but I wanted to mix things up a little. Keep life interesting." She runs her gaze slowly up and down Joy's figure, and Joy is morbidly aware of her face heating up under the woman's stare.

Joy manages to gain some composure and spits out, "I'm sorry, who are you?"

"Ah, yes, I should probably introduce you." Decker says lazily. "This is Mazikeen Smith, also known as Maze. She's a professional bounty hunter. One of the best." Decker smiles at the woman affectionately. "You'll be seeing her around the precinct from time to time, she has her own office there. Maze, this is my recently-assigned partner, Detective Joy Roberts." Decker jerks his thumb to the elevator doors behind them. "Is he upstairs?"

"Where else would he be?" Maze scoffs.

"Has he come down at all?"

"Not once since I've been here."

Decker sighs. "I suppose it was too much to ask that he'd make this easy." He motions for Joy, who is rooted in place by a mixture of shock and embarrassment, to follow him. "We'll just let ourselves in."

Just that quickly, Maze's entire demeanor changes. "Sam." She calls out, sounding concerned. He whirls around to look at her. "You sure about this?" She glances upwards meaningfully.

"No idea. But it's worth a try, yeah?" He gives the woman a smile that is probably supposed to be reassuring before nudging Joy ahead of him into the elevator.

Joy stares at her reflection in the elevator doors. She has never felt quite so...exposed. The woman, Maze, had been blatantly coming onto her. Had it come from any other woman it might have appeared desperate, but instead had been some combination of flattering and mortifying.

And then there was Decker, who had treated the whole encounter as if it was totally normal.

She finally finds her voice, and spins around to glare at him. "_Wait her turn_?"

Decker is staring straight ahead, but she catches a hint of a smirk. "Well, I didn't want to presume I knew your sexual proclivities."

"My sexual what?" She practically shrieks.

Decker turns to look at her head on, his eyes dancing wickedly. "Oh, no judgement." He promises, completely sincere. "Trust me, if you knew my family...well, you wouldn't be the first to be seduced by Maze. She does have a girlfriend, though, so you might be the first to have an all-girls threesome." He adds when she just gapes at him, open-mouthed.

"I don't-I'm not-" she sputters. She can see her face in the elevator reflection getting redder each second. Not for the first time, she curses her ability to blush so easily. "I don't want to sleep with Maze _or_ her girlfriend."

He eyes her sidelong. "Boyfriend, is it? Husband?" He doesn't sound like he cares one way or the other, he's just enjoying seeing her squirm.

"Not that it's any of your business, but I'm single. And into guys. And done with this conversation." She snaps with finality. She crosses her arms over her chest.

He shrugs, but she's pretty sure he's secretly laughing at her. "We're here, anyway." He says as the elevator doors open. She opens her mouth to argue some more, but is distracted by the sounds of a piano.

They follow the music into the most lavish room she has ever seen. An entire wall filled with expensive alcohol is on their right behind a beautifully crafted bar. Mahogany bookshelves line the wall on her left, filled with enough leather-bound books to supply a town library, set alongside a fair number of arcane collectibles that look like they belong in a museum. Off in the far corner, Joy spots a wrought iron spiral staircase that leads to up to a second floor, where more bookshelves reside.

The middle of the room is meant to be the living area, with luscious leather couches arranged in front of floor to ceiling windows, through which she can see a balcony that offers up a beautiful view of the Los Angeles skyline. Across the room is a set of stone stairs leading to what Joy thinks is a bedroom, the entrance framed by stained glass and etched stone. Like the nightclub below, this place is the height of luxury.

If it weren't for the dozen half-empty liquor bottles scattered over the top of the bar, or the general disarray of the room, she might have believed she walked into a magazine.

But her attention is drawn once again to-yes, she's not seeing things-yet another grand piano in the middle of the room, being played by a man with dark hair. If he's noticed their approach, he doesn't acknowledge it-either that or he's just too lost in the melancholy song he's playing to hear them come in.

Decker leans against the bar, murmuring, "Clapton."

"Hmm?" She murmurs. She closes her eyes. It's been a long time since she's heard anyone play piano this beautifully.

"The song. Eric Clapton's _Tears in Heaven_." Decker sighs. "Not a good sign."

The man finishes off the song, tilting his head a little on the last few notes. He grabs the glass he's had sitting on stand-by, sipping from it as he turns in their direction.

"Well, well." He drawls. She starts, not expecting to hear an upper-class, British accent anywhere in L.A. "If it isn't the illustrious Detective Decker, one of the LAPD's finest." He gets up from the piano bench and heads over to the bar to pour himself another drink. He's dressed impeccably in a white dress shirt beneath navy vest and slacks. The morning light glints off the black and silver ring he wears on his right hand.

The man-Lucifer Morningstar she guesses-is still talking while simultaneously pouring another glass for Decker. "What brings you here?" His tone is just short of mocking, and she wonders why they are trying to convince him to consult when it's clear he's not too fond of authority. "Haven't you got a nice murder to solve?"

Decker catches the glass that has been slid over to him, but doesn't drink from it. He leans against the bar, watching Lucifer carefully. "I do, as a matter of fact. I was hoping maybe you'd want to come out of retirement long enough to help us with this one."

"Us?" She realizes that Lucifer had been so focused on Decker he hadn't even noticed her. Now he turns to her, dark brown eyes brightening when they spot her. "Well, hello, darling." His voice, annoyed a moment ago, turns mildly flirtatious, and he gazes at her with interest. "How rude of Detective Decker not to introduce us sooner. Lucifer Morningstar." He holds out a hand, his mouth curved in a charismatic smile.

The tasteful clothes and the smile don't quite take away from the dark circles under his eyes, or the fact that his hair doesn't appear to have been brushed for a while.

"Detective Joy Roberts." She shakes it quickly, letting her hands fall to the bar where her fingers play a chord anxiously. She has no idea why, but she suddenly has the intense urge to tell this man everything about her. "I just transferred over from Narcotics. This is my first day on Homicide. I'm a little nervous." Why the hell had she told him that?

"Ah, a newbie, are you?" He puts one hand in his pocket as he continues to study her. "Wanted to catch killers instead of the garden-variety drug dealer?"

Her fingers are now tapping hard at the bar in response to her stress. "I want…" She has to force her mouth closed. What is wrong with her?

"Stop." Decker commands from the other end of the bar.

She yanks her hands off the polished wood and tucks them behind her. "Sorry, I-"

"Not you." Scowling, Decker gets up and places himself right between her and Lucifer. "Him."

She has no idea what her new partner is talking about, but Lucifer must because he turns away with a huff. "Why do you need my help with this case?" He asks after a brief pause. "The murder didn't happen in Lux, did it?"

"No, our victim was murdered behind a diner." Decker casually picks up the glass he had abandoned and swirls the liquid around. He shifts his body so that Joy is no longer behind him. Joy is grateful to note that the sudden, inexplicable desire to tell Lucifer all about her has passed.

Lucifer gives an exaggerated shudder. "Ugh, _diners_. I could never understand the humans' fascination with those awful places. Cracked Naugahyde, sticky floors, bad coffee...and not one serves alcohol. I much prefer establishments with liquor licenses." As if to prove his point, he takes a large sip from his glass.

"Whoever did this stabbed an innocent girl six times and left her in an alley like garbage." Decker's voice is low, but she can hear his fury, sees it in the stiffness of his shoulders. "Don't you think they should be punished for it?"

"Of course I do." Lucifer says, frowning at him. "You know that. What I don't understand is why you think you need my help. You're one of the best detectives the LAPD has." Is it just her, or is there a hint of pride in his voice? "Besides," He tips back his head and finishes the glass. "As you said, I'm retired from the whole consulting bag."

"Come on, don't pretend you don't miss it a little." Decker sits on one of the barstools. "You loved catching the bad guys."

"That was a long time ago." Lucifer tells him brusquely. "And it's not like you've given me any incentive to help you. It's been what, months, since we've spoken? No letters, no phone calls…"

A smile pulls wryly at the corner of Decker's mouth. "That sounds a lot like someone else I know." He lifts the glass he's been holding and salutes Lucifer with it. "But I'm sorry I haven't called, Dad."

"_Dad_?" Startled by her shrill yelp, they both turn to look at her. "Lucifer Morningstar is your _father_?" She glances back and forth between the two men.

"Don't tell me you didn't notice the uncanny resemblance." Decker smirks.

Now that they are right next to each other, she has to admit the family resemblance is so striking it's a wonder she didn't see it earlier. Both have the same lean, wiry build and height, the same facial features. The only differences she can see is that Decker is clean shaven and his messy black hair-the same color as his father's- is more a matter of style than disinterest in personal grooming.

"Wait, wait." She holds up her hands. "That's impossible. He can't be your father." She points at Decker. "He doesn't look any older than you."

Lucifer preens. "The benefits of immortality. Even as my son grows older, I stay just as young and devastating as I was when he was born." He leans forward on the bar and she's close enough to note that along with the black and silver ring, he wears a gold wedding band on his left hand.

"Immortal?" She crosses her arms and stares at both of them skeptically. "That's what you're going with." She waits for the inevitable laughter, the confession that this has all been a prank played on the new girl, but it doesn't come.

"Well, I am the Devil, darling." Lucifer tells her earnestly. "I may have retired from ruling Hell, but that doesn't change the fact that I'm simply invulnerable to age." For the briefest of moments, his personable demeanor cracks, and she gets a glimpse of true heartbreak before he manages to conceal it again.

"He's not lying, Roberts." Decker takes a sip from the glass he's holding. "It's a point of pride for him." His eyes are on her, but she has an odd feeling that his attention is still on Lucifer.

She pinches the bridge of her nose. "So, your last name is not Decker, it's actually Morningstar?"

Decker chokes on his drink. "Are you kidding? No, I changed my last name when I applied to be a cop. I mean, can you imagine being arrested by an Officer _Morningstar_? I would have been laughed right out of the precinct."

"I tried to get him to change it to Deckerstar, but he wouldn't." Lucifer tells her mournfully.

Decker rolls his eyes.

Incensed by their cavalier attitudes, she jabs a finger in Decker's direction. "You lied to me. You told me we were coming here to talk a consultant out of retirement." She accuses.

Decker sets down his glass with a heavy thunk. "I didn't lie to you." He retorts, insulted. "He really was a consultant for the L.A.P.D.-one of the best, in fact."

"And I am retired." Lucifer reminds them abruptly. "The days of me helping the L.A.P.D. are long gone. You two can solve this murder on your own."

There's a short silence as Joy and Decker watch Lucifer stalk out onto the balcony, keeping his back to them.

Decker sighs gustily. "Stubborn old goat." He mutters under his breath. He reaches behind the bar and grabs a bottle, re-filling both his glass and the one his father used. He turns to Joy. "Let me handle this." He suggests. "Help yourself to whatever you want, I'll be right back." He leaves her standing there alone as he follows his father onto the balcony.


	3. Chapter Two: Son of a Devil

Sam's father is leaning over the railing, his eyes gazing just above the Los Angeles skyline and to the brilliant blue sky beyond. He doesn't turn around as Sam approaches, but Sam knows his father can hear him, so he doesn't bother to announce himself. He just nudges him with an elbow and hands his father one of the glasses of whiskey he's carried out. His father takes it wordlessly and retreats back into his reverie, his mouth pulled into a thin line.

Sam leans over the railing next to him, sipping from his own glass. He's not worried about getting drunk-he may not have gotten his father's immortality, being half-human, but he still has quite a high tolerance for most alcohol. It would take more than a few glasses of whiskey to get him well and truly drunk.

"Dad, come consult on this case with us." He says after a pause. "We could use your help."

His father scoffs into his drink. "No, you don't. You're too much like your mother to need my help." Predictably, the mere mention of Sam's mother makes his father's shoulders slump, as if the grief is a physical weight.

Still, Sam knows an opening when he hears one. "She'd want you to help, Dad, you know she would. She'd hate to see you like this, isolating yourself from everyone. Hiding away up here in the penthouse."

"I'm not hiding."

"Maze says you don't even bother to come down to Lux anymore."

"It's my nightclub. I don't have to visit it if I don't want to." His father takes another sip, a sullen expression on his face. "Maze been keeping tabs on me, has she?"

"She's worried about you, Dad. We all are."

His father angles his head towards him, eyes narrowing suspiciously. "We?"

"The family. Me, Aunt Linda, Uncle." Technically, Sam has several uncles, but he almost never calls Amenadiel by anything else. "Aunt Linda was just saying that it might be good for you to come back to work." He takes a sip of his own drink, using the gesture to hide the slight quiver in his hands.

Like his father, he doesn't lie. And while he does use half-truths when necessary, like now, he has never used one on his father before. Sam knows he has to play this carefully, because if his father ever suspected that Sam might be lying to him on some level…just because he had been personally trained by Mazikeen, one of Hell's most vicious torturers, didn't mean he expected to take on his father and win.

But he doesn't think his father is ready to hear who really wanted him to consult on this case. Not yet.

"Why on Earth would Dr. Linda think consulting on this case would be good for me?" Despite being the mother of his only nephew, his father still calls his former therapist by her work title.

"I don't know. Maybe she thought it might be fun, re-living the good old days of hunting down the wicked and punishing them." He leans in. "It might be good for my new partner, you know. I mean, she'll get to see a real legend in action." He puts a drop of hero-worship in his voice.

It isn't hard to do. His father had been Sam's personal hero growing up.

The flattery is helping, as he knew it would. The corner of his father's mouth is tilting up, so Sam uses one of his best plays. "Who knows? Maybe if we're lucky, we'll annoy Grandfather." He says in a low, conspirator's tone.

His father just eyes him sardonically. "You used that same argument when you wanted to take that lingerie model to your senior prom." He mutters into his glass.

"Who was the one who introduced me to her in the first place?" Sam retorts. He hides his disappointment-usually the mere suggestion that a plan might irritate Grandfather was guaranteed to get Sam's father on board.

With a sigh, Sam straightens up, "Come on, Dad. Come work with us on this one case. As a favor to me."

This catches his father's interest. "A favor?"

"Yes, a favor. You help us solve this case and I swear, once we're done, if you truly want to return to retirement, then I'll leave you to it." He holds out a hand, keeping his eyes locked on his father's. "Do we have a deal?"

His father studies him for a long moment. Sam waits him out, knowing full well that his father can't pass up on a deal.

Finally, after a long-suffering sigh, his father relents. "Very well." He shakes Sam's hand. "We have a deal."

Sam smiles, but doesn't let go of his father's hand. "Just one last favor…"

His father raises his brows. "A second favor?" he asks reproachfully.

"I'm your only son. A second favor is the very least you can do." Sam points out. "Please, no doing the whole...Devil thing with my new partner." He's immune to his father's abilities, but it was pretty clear earlier that Roberts isn't. He doesn't want to scare her off on the first day.

"Whatever do you mean?"

"You know what I mean." He stares hard at his father, who eventually yanks his hand out of Sam's grip with a harrumph.

"Fine, I won't use my...gift on her." He grumbles. "Can I at least use it on the suspects?"

"I was actually hoping you would." Sam smiles wickedly. "If you want, you can even rough them up a little, like you used to."

"Well, of course I can." His father replies haughtily. "You want to solve this case, don't you?"

Sam chuckles. "Come on, I'll catch you up in the-do you hear that?" He's distracted by the faintest sound coming from inside the penthouse.

He hurries back inside, his father trailing at his heels. As they get further inside, he identifies the familiar sound of the piano, the background music of his entire childhood. Whoever is playing is almost as good as his father, with a skill that comes from more than just daily practice. Whoever is playing has true talent.

He inhales sharply when he realizes that it is his new partner occupying the bench, her eyes closed as her fingers dance over the keys. Her expression is peaceful, and she plays almost as if she's in a trance. The mid-morning sunlight accentuates the red in her auburn hair, deepening her creamy complexion. He's momentarily struck by how lovely she is.

He reluctantly steps forward. He doesn't want to interrupt, but his father has always been very particular about people touching his piano without permission.

Before he can take another step, his father places a hand on his shoulder, stopping him. Startled, Sam glances in his direction. His father's expression as he stares at Roberts is one of incredulous curiosity-an expression Sam hasn't seen in over a year, not since his mother passed away.

Relaxing a bit, since his father isn't taking umbrage at Roberts' use of his piano, Sam tries to determine what song his new partner is playing. It would have been impossible to grow up with his father and not learn how to play, but while he recognizes it as a classical piece, he's not an expert.

Instead, he asks one.

"Mozart?"

"Brahms." His father murmurs. He tilts his head to the side as he observes Sam's new partner.

Roberts finishes the piece with flourish. The minute the last note fades, Sam's father claps with enthusiasm.

Poor Roberts nearly topples off the bench, her green eyes flying open.

"You're just full of surprises, aren't you, darling?" His father exclaims. "I don't think Brahms himself could have played it any better. Dreadful perfectionist, you know. He spent _hours _complaining about how his first symphony was a disaster, completely disregarding all the work I had gone through to get it for him." He throws his hands up in the air, still indignant even though Sam knows that the offense happened centuries ago.

Roberts is staring at the two of them, a dazed, mortified expression on her face. Sam has to struggle not to grin. "I-I'm so sorry. I don't know what came over me." She squeaks, scrambling off the piano bench. "I swear, I've never done this kind of thing before. I've never gone into somebody's house and just…"

"Given in to your desires?" His father smirks. "Don't worry. It's perfectly natural." He eyes Roberts like he would a new bottle of scotch.

"I used to play a lot when I was younger, especially when I was stressed out or upset." Roberts explains. "Even now my fingers still look for the piano keys when I'm feeling nervous." She twists said fingers together self-consciously.

A puzzle piece finally clicks into place. "Is that what you were doing before?" Sam asks her, triumphant. "On the bar?" He mimes playing the piano with his fingers.

Roberts looks, if possible, even more embarrassed. "Oh my God, you saw that? I swear, I don't even know I'm doing it half the time."

"It's not your fault." His father assures her. "Your strange little quirks are just the result of His awful sense of humor."

Roberts blinks at him. "Whose?"

"My father's, of course." Without giving her time to digest this information, Sam's father joins her at the piano. "Now, do you know any recent songs, maybe-"

"Can we do this later?" Sam takes his phone, which has been buzzing angrily, out of his pocket. "Looks like Forensics has something for us."

"Right." His father changes directions and hops up the steps that lead to the adjoining bedroom and closet. "Let me just grab my jacket and we can be on our way."

Joy huddles in the corner of the elevator, keeping her eyes trained on the floor as Decker fills his father-and how weird was that to say? -in on their investigation.

She still has no idea what had come over her back there. Not once had she ever been tempted to sit at a strange man's piano and play as if she owned the place. She's just glad Lucifer hadn't been offended by her rudeness. Indeed, part of the reason she's staring at the floor is because he keeps leaning around Decker to gaze at her with the air of a child who's just received a new toy and is disappointed that he has to wait to play with it.

She doesn't quite know what to think of Lucifer-or Decker, for that matter. On the one hand, they both seem like totally normal men with more than a fair amount of charm. But on the other hand, Lucifer thinks he's the literal Devil, an eccentricity that Decker does not seem to find the least bit concerning. In fact, if she didn't know better, she would think that Decker actually believes him.

That's ridiculous, of course. Decker has probably grown up with this weirdness and is just used to it. And if Lucifer had been a civilian consultant with the LAPD as long as he said, then perhaps he has some hidden talents that she isn't seeing.

Maybe if she just went along with this whole Devil nonsense, Lucifer wouldn't mind letting her come over occasionally to play on his piano. Even though she was still a little embarrassed by what had happened, she couldn't deny the contentment that came over her every time she played. Her mother had been a concert pianist, and some of Joy's best memories are colored with the sounds of the piano.

She follows the two men when they exit the elevator into the club. It is completely empty now except for Maze. She's sitting with her back to the bar, leaning back on her elbows, her harpoon at her feet. She does a double take when she spots Lucifer.

He looks more put together than he did upstairs. He's brushed his hair and added a suit jacket to his outfit, complete with pocket square.

"Well, look who finally decided to descend from his tower and grace us with his presence." Maze's tone is mocking, but she looks genuinely pleased to see Lucifer. "What, did you run out of whiskey?"

"Very funny, Maze." Lucifer says. "But you know I would never be so foolish as to let myself run out. There's a delivery service now. I have the app on my phone." He pulls out a cell phone and shows it to her. "What are you doing here, anyway...checking up on me?"

Maze pushes away from the bar and joins them on the mezzanine. "Figured I'd stick around just in case the kid needed help getting your ass out of the penthouse." She crosses her arms over her chest, looking Lucifer up and down. "I'm a little disappointed. Dragging you out kicking and screaming would have been more fun."

Lucifer huffs impatiently. "Yes, well, as touching as your loyalty is, there is no need to drag me. I have decided I am going to assist with this case. _Just_ this case." He tells them all meaningfully. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll take my own car and meet you at the station. The sooner we solve this, the sooner I can go back to my retirement." His spins on the heels of his expensive dress shoes and flounces out.

Maze watches him go, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Nice work, kid." She claps Decker on the shoulder.

"Well, who better to charm the Devil than his own son?" Decker says, smiling. He and Maze bump their fists together. "See you Sunday?"

"You bet. Bring your new partner." She looks at Joy suggestively.

Decker just grunts and gestures for Joy to follow him out of the nightclub.

"What's on Sunday?" She asks, curious.

"Just a family thing." He answers evasively. He opens the car door for her.

Joy climbs into the car, fighting to keep her expression neutral. Decker didn't know about her past, so he wouldn't understand why those words had such an effect on her. She ignores the fierce ache in her chest.

Decker climbs into the driver's side and maneuvers the car out into traffic.

Joy sits with her hands clenched in her lap, and the silence goes on for several uncomfortable minutes before she finally asks, "So why didn't you tell me our consultant is your father? I mean, isn't that something you should tell your partner?"

And that rankled, the fact that he hadn't trusted her enough to tell her. True, she and Decker had only been partners for an hour or two, but they had agreed before they left the precinct that partners should trust each other. She is startled to find that she's a little hurt at being left out.

It must show on her face, because he looks sheepish. "I know, and I'm sorry. There's a lot of...baggage that comes with my family. I didn't want to overwhelm you with all of it right away. I mean, we only just met." He smiles at her ruefully. "Dad can be a little much for some people to take."

She frowns. "Because he thinks he's the Devil?"

"He is the Devil."

He's so matter of fact about it that she stares at him. "You're serious? You think your Dad is the actual Devil." Had the Lieutenant been aware of this and partnered her with Decker as some sort of hazing ritual?

"See, this is why I told you I wanted you to meet him first." He lets out a gusty sigh. "All right, get it all out."

"What?"

"Oh, come on. You don't think I haven't heard it all? Just go ahead and get it out of your system." But he's smiling at her.

"Oh no, no. I get it. Your dad is the Devil. Which I guess makes you a son of a devil." She can't stop the giggle that bubbles up from her chest. "You are the literal Spawn of Satan."

"That's me."

"The Antichrist."

"Nope, different person entirely. Don't worry, people get us mixed up all the time." He tells her smugly.

She grins. "Oh, wait, let me guess. Your mother's name is Rosemary?"

The laughter dies in her throat at Decker's expression. The amused light has gone out of his eyes, pain flickering across his face.

"Her name was Chloe." He says quietly.

Was. Past tense.

"Oh. Oh, I'm so sorry." She places a gentle hand on his arm. "When-"

"About a year ago. Cancer." Decker glances at the hand on his arm but doesn't protest it being there. "It came on fast, and before we even knew how bad it was, she was gone." He smiles, but it's only a pale imitation of the one he had shown her before. "She was a detective too, you know."

"Like you."

He chuckles. "Yeah, like me. You should have heard her when I told her I made detective-she was so damn proud of me. 'Runs in the family.' she said."

"Is that why your dad kept calling you 'Detective'?"

Decker shakes his head. "No, he was just annoyed with me. Usually he calls me Sam. Or Hell spawn, when I was younger and my mother wasn't in the room." Joy feels a painful tug in response to the sadness laced in his voice. "'Detective' was his pet name for my mother. It goes back to when they first met. She was working a case and, as always, he just had to get involved." She notes that he's cheering up a little. This is a familiar story, his parents' first meeting, one he's probably been told over and over.

"Was she the reason he became a civilian consultant for the L.A.P.D?"

"Yeah, after she shot him." His smile turns wicked when Joy gapes at him, shocked. "Don't worry, he healed fast enough. And knowing my father, he probably deserved it. They were partners for a long time after that." He pauses. "She was the love of his life."

That explained Lucifer's unkempt appearance, the red-rimmed eyes. Depression, she has learned, takes on a lot of forms.

She thinks back to that moment in the penthouse, where Lucifer's mask of affability had slipped just enough to show her the devastation underneath. "I'm guessing he didn't take it very well when she died?"

"It nearly destroyed him." Decker tells her point-blank. "For two days after she died, he spun completely out of control. He alternated between excessive drinking and drugs. Ranting for hours on end about how it was all Grandfather's fault-"

"Grandfather?" She interrupts, puzzled. He just angles his head to look at her. "Oh. God."

Now the whole Devil persona made sense. It's a defense mechanism, a way for Lucifer to cope with his wife's death. It was probably easier for Lucifer to believe his wife's cancer was an act of retribution from God than it was to accept the fact that she had died from an illness he couldn't have done anything about. It's probably easier for Decker too, to just humor him and pretend his father is the Devil. Kinder to let him have this fantasy than cruelly dragging him back to reality.

Decker hasn't noticed Joy's reflective silence. "At first we all thought it was his way of grieving. Everyone in my family knows that acting out is my father's go-to for most painful situations. But after two days of spiraling, he just up and disappeared."

"Disappeared?"

"For six months." Frustration sharpens the edges of Decker's voice until it turns into a growl. "No warning. He didn't leave a note, didn't call anyone, didn't send so much as a bloody text message. He had taken some clothes and a duffle with him, but left his phone and his car, so we didn't even have a way to track him." Joy notes that Decker's accent, which she now identifies as British like his father's, has gotten more prominent since this earlier this morning.

"What about his credit cards?"

He shakes his head. "I thought of that too, but he cleared out his safe before he left, so I'm pretty certain he only used cash while he was...wherever he was." Decker taps his steering wheel anxiously. "I wanted to go after him right away, but my uncle insisted that I wait. He'd done this before, you see, so we thought he had just left for a few days to deal with his misery in his own way, somewhere more bacchanalian than L.A." Decker sucks in a sharp breath. "But a few days turned into a week, a week turned into a month. Still nothing."

"That must have been stressful for you, not knowing where he was." She says, noticing his scowl.

"More like irritating. Like I said, he's done this before, but not for such a long period of time. We looked for him. Checked all his favorite locales, any place where booze, music and partying are in ample supply."

"Like?"

"Las Vegas. New Orleans, Ibiza, New York City, Amsterdam, Miami." He catches her shocked expression. "My dad's been around. When we couldn't find him in any of those places, we spread out the search, checked places whose names might have caught his interest or catered to his sense of humor- Bangkok, Intercourse, Lesbos, that sort of thing." Decker runs a hand through his dark hair, and Joy can tell that contrary to what he said, his father's disappearance had shaken him to his core. "I even tried going down to Hell and to see if he had returned there."

Joy stares at him. "You went where, exactly?"

"Hell." He replies distractedly. "I went through every nook and cranny of that place and couldn't find him, though I guess that's not surprising. He always hated it down there-he wouldn't just go back."

"Time out." Joy makes the sign with her hand. "You went to Hell."

"Yes, of course." He looks at her as if she's the crazy one. "I even brought Maze down with me. She's been my father's closest friend practically forever. Plus, being a demon, she knows that place backwards and forwards."

Joy sputters. "Ok, you want to explain to me how you got to Hell?" She doesn't even want to consider what he means by Maze being a demon.

"I flew down." He says this as if it should be obvious.

"I didn't realize LAX had made a connecting flight to Hell."

"Yeah, yeah, hilarious." He replies, flapping a hand at her. "But seriously, I flew down there using my wings."

"There's nothing serious about this conversation." She half-laughs. "But ok, I'll play along. You have wings." She looks pointedly at his back.

"Well I don't have them out right now!" He says, exasperated. "I learned at the tender age of sixteen that it is not advisable to take out your wings while operating a motor vehicle. My cousin still gives me crap about that little experiment-but then, it was his car I totaled." He adds as an afterthought.

She stares at him for a long while. "Has anyone ever told you just how crazy you sound?"

"Hey, you were the one who was upset because I didn't tell you my father was the consultant we were hiring." He points out. "You said partners were supposed to trust each other, right? Well, you need to trust me when I say that all this Devil stuff is just the tip of the iceberg with my family. It just gets stranger from here on out."

She sits back in her seat, considering this. "I guess you're right. I mean, everyone has family stuff they have to deal with. It sounds like your family stuff is more dysfunctional than most." She glances at him sidelong. "I probably shouldn't be teasing you for it."

"It's fine. I got over being teased about my family drama back in the fifth grade." He smiles at her. "I can't beat the crap out of you, though, so let's just call it a truce."

She laughs. "Ok, truce." They aren't too far from the precinct, now. "So, you couldn't find your father for six whole months?"

"Nope. The day after we decided to call off the search, Maze went up to the penthouse to lock up and, lo and behold, my father was there. As if he had never run off in the first place."

"Did he say where he had been?"

Decker lets out of derisive snort. "My father? Please. No, he just acted as if those six months had never happened-no explanation, no apology. It was like nothing had changed. Well, kind of." Decker turns the car into the parking garage of the precinct. "He hasn't left the penthouse since he got back."

It dawns on her, then. "That's why you wanted him to consult with us."

"Yeah." Decker turns off his car and turns to look at her. "I was hoping that reminding him of the good times he had with Mom might help him open up, stop cutting himself off from everyone. It got him out of the penthouse, so I guess we're off to a good start." He winks at her. "Now let's go find our consultant, shall we?"


	4. Chapter Three: Paradise Lost

Lucifer is waiting for them at the entrance of the station, already halfway through a bag of mini-donuts.

"Finally," He exclaims when he spots them. "I've been waiting here for ages."

"You could have just met us at the lab." Decker says, amused. "Or did you get distracted by the vending machine?"

"For your information, you took so long that I had time to nip down to the precinct refrigerator. There was nothing there worth eating, so I was forced to use the vending machines." He sticks another donut in his mouth, muttering, "I can't believe I actually _miss _Daniel."

He had brushed it off, but Joy thinks that Lucifer was only waiting for them because he didn't want to go down into the precinct alone. Murmurs follow them as Decker strides through the precinct to the lab, and she sees several officers whispering together and pointing in Lucifer's direction. Lucifer may have retired, but he was still well-known.

Decker gives the lab door a cursory knock before walking in. "What have you got for me, Gabby?"

They all file into the lab and gather around the table. Joy studies the evidence bag containing the blood-stained knife, the pictures of the crime scene, but mostly she peers at a recent picture of their victim. Haley Sanders had been young, with a beautiful smile that had lit up her entire face. Joy hopes fiercely that they have found something that will help them catch the monster who snuffed that light out.

The forensic scientist is over in the corner, her back to them as she types furiously on her laptop. She's humming under her breath, dancing a little in her seat. At first Joy thinks it's like her own nervous habit of playing imaginary piano, until she spots the earbuds in the woman's ears.

"Gabby." Decker leans over and tugs the earbuds out. "You have something for me?"

"I just need to finish this up. Keep your pants on, Decker." She doesn't turn around, but Joy can hear the smile in her voice.

Decker grins. "I have to, otherwise you'll just chuck them in the pool again." He gives the woman's ponytail a tug.

The woman huffs. "Ugh, are you still mad about that? That was almost twenty-" She spins around in her chair and spots Lucifer. Her face breaks into a grin. "_Uncle Lucifer!_"

Joy's mouth drops open. Uncle Lucifer?

Decker just barely gets out of the way as the woman shoots out of the chair and launches herself at Lucifer's midsection, almost slamming him into the wall. "I can't believe you're here, in my lab." She squeals, squeezing him around the middle. "This is great!"

"Yes, well," Lucifer is trying, and failing, to squirm his way out of her grip. "Of course when it was suggested I help with this case I made time to see my favorite niece." He puts his hands on her shoulders and gives her a push, but she doesn't seem to notice.

"_I'm_ your favorite niece?" She finally lets him go to clap her hands together, utterly delighted.

"Gabby," Decker sounds like he's trying not to laugh. "You're his _only _niece."

"I know, but it's been so long." Gabby leans against the examining table as she beams up at Lucifer. "I missed having him around. I mean, where has the fun Uncle Lucifer been? You know, the one who took me to Las Vegas on my twenty-first birthday?"

"And where was he on my twenty-first birthday?" Decker grumbles good-naturedly from the other end of the table. "All I got was a party at Lux."

Lucifer tucks his hands in his pockets. "I was going to do the same for you," he tells Decker loftily, "But as soon as your mother got wind of it she vetoed the whole scheme. And it's not as if a party at Lux is anything to scoff at. I mean, you did get free drinks all night, didn't you?"

"I've been getting free drinks there since I was ten. Comes with being the son of the owner." In spite of his grumbling, Decker doesn't look angry. In fact, he seems to be enjoying himself. "Gabby, I don't think you met my new partner yet, have you?"

The woman turns and Joy takes her in. She's shorter than all of them by a head, with delicate features and large, amber eyes hidden behind black-framed glasses. She has her straight, black hair held back in a ponytail with a scrunchie. Like Joy, she's dressed in jeans, but instead of a plain T-shirt, hers is emblazoned with a cartoonish ghost holding a sign that says "boo-tiful". She looks like she should be in high school chemistry class, not the forensic laboratory of the LAPD.

"Gabby, this is my new partner, Detective Joy Roberts." Decker says as he maneuvers to the other side of the table. "Detective Roberts, this is our Forensics expert, Gabriella Lopez."

Joy smiles at the other woman. "It's nice to meet-oh!" This is because the woman has pulled her into an enthusiastic hug.

"You can call me Gabby." She says brightly.

"Um, ok, thanks." Joy tries to peel her off, but with no luck. She looks to Decker for help, but he's too busy shuffling through the photos of the crime scene

Lucifer fussily adjusts his jacket. "She gets that from her mother." He tells Joy sympathetically.

Joy finally manages to wrench herself out of Gabby's grip. "So, you two are cousins?" She gestures to Decker.

Gabby smiles. "Oh, Lucifer's not my real uncle. It's more of an honorary title. My mom worked with Sam's mom and dad as the old Forensic scientist, and was one of their closest friends." She nods over in Decker's direction. "And Sam and I were born only a year apart, so we grew up together." Her grin turns thoughtful. "Though I was named after one of Uncle Lucifer's brothers. You know, the angel Gabriel? I guess that makes Sam and me cousins by proxy."

Joy looks at both Decker and Lucifer, desperately waiting for one of them to shout "April Fools!". But neither of them do. Decker is too busy frowning at the knife on the table, and Lucifer has pulled a flask from his jacket pocket and is taking a swig.

"For the record, I tried to talk her mother out of naming her after Gabriel." Lucifer tells her, putting his flask away.

Decker snorts, but when he glances up his attention is on Gabby. "Now that we've gotten that all cleared up, you want to fill us in, Gabby?"

"Oh, right!" Gabby hustles back to her computer. "So, cause of death was stabbing, obvs. But here's the weird thing." She points to the knife. "That knife there matches most of the stab wounds, _except _for the one that killed her."

"That makes no sense." Joy protests. "How could it match all the stab wounds except one?"

Gabby shrugs. "I only know what the forensics tells me, and they say there were two knives. One that made the majority of the stab wounds, and one that made what was probably the killing blow."

"We combed that entire place, and only found the one knife." Decker muses. "The killer must have taken it with him. But why stab her so many times? Everyone I talked to loved Haley-what did she do to deserve such a punishment?" He turns to Gabby. "No chance you found any prints on the knife?"

"Ok, so this is the part where you tell me love me." Gabby chirps back. "Because not only did I get a print off the knife, I did some research and found the guy in the system." She grabs a nearby tablet and slides it over to Decker. "Meet Clive Fleming. Ex-con and the diner's grill cook."

Decker pulls the tablet closer and grimaces. "Ouch. Now there's a face." He shows his father the tablet and they both shudder.

"Let me see." Joy peers over Decker's shoulder. The man in the picture is about fifty-ish, weedy-looking. He has a head of thinning, stringy blonde hair and bloodshot eyes. His teeth are an off shade of white; from smoking, drugs, or both, she surmises. "Eh, I've dated worse."

She looks up and has to swallow a laugh at the identically horrified stares both Decker and Lucifer are giving her. "What? A few of those guys actually turned out to be really sweet."

"That's right." Gabby pipes up from her desk, where she's been clicking around on the laptop. "Sometimes true beauty is found deep under the surface."

Decker grunts disbelievingly. "Well, there appears to be a thief deep below this guy's surface." He swipes through the man's rap sheet. "Petty larceny, burglary, more larceny. Never anything big, but enough to land him in jail a few times."

"Perhaps that's how our victim ran afoul of this man." Lucifer suggests. "Perhaps he went back to his thieving ways, got caught with his hand in the cash register."

Decker nods, following along. "She goes out back, confronts him, and he takes a knife from the kitchen and kills her." He frowns. "Doesn't explain the second knife, though."

But Joy has just noticed something. "Check this out. Clive's last known address." She points to it on the screen, and then at the address listed on the photocopy of Haley's driver's license. "It's the same as Haley's." She nibbles her bottom lip in thought. "Maybe this is about more than just theft. Maybe they were lovers."

Lucifer makes a sound of revulsion. "Are you telling me this lovely creature was sleeping with that troll?" He motions to the picture of Haley. "I suppose there is no accounting for taste."

"But think about it." She protests. "He's an ex-con, right? It's hard to find a job when you have a record. Maybe they start dating, and she gets him a job as a cook. Maybe he doesn't even have to steal-but because of his past, she accuses him of it. That ticks him off, so he stabs her. Rage can account for the second knife." She tells Decker. "He could have broken the first one and had to go back for another."

"It can be infuriating, being judged based solely on your past." Lucifer agrees, something dark flickering across his expression.

"Both good theories." Decker puts the tablet down. "But nothing more than speculation, until we track down Clive. Gabby, you got anything on his whereabouts?"

"Already a few steps ahead of you." Gabby grabs a piece of paper off the printer. "Clive didn't show up to work today, so I went through his file for any associates, and guess whose name came up." She points to a name, and Decker grins.

"You're the best, Gabby." He folds the paper and puts it in his jacket pocket. "I swear, you're a much better cousin than the one I ended up with."

"Seriously, Sam, I wish you two would just make up already." Gabby complains. She turns to Joy. "He has an older cousin named Charlie who also works for the L.A.P.D." Her gaze slides to Decker, whose expression has turned stony.

Too bad his father doesn't notice. "That's right, where is Charlie? I don't think I've seen him since I've been here." Lucifer whirls to look around the precinct, as if expecting the cousin to appear out of thin air. "Weren't you two partners, once upon a time?"

"We were." Decker replies in a voice that's deliberately bland. "But he decided he wanted to move on to bigger things."

"Are you still on that?" Gabby sighs "I mean, it's not like _you _wanted to be a lieutenant."

There's a funny buzzing in Joy's head. "Lieutenant Martin? Lieutenant Martin is your cousin?" She had been expecting another cop, or a detective. Never in a million years would she have pegged the large, imposing Lieutenant as Decker's cousin.

"You don't need to rub it in." Decker mumbles.

Lucifer seems just as shocked by this development. "Wait, when was Charlie made a Lieutenant? Why didn't anyone tell me?" he demands.

"It's kind of hard to keep you up to date on family news when we can't find you, Dad." Decker snaps back irritably. Lucifer rocks back on his heels as if he's been slapped.

Decker takes a deep breath, lets it out. "I'm not angry that Charlie got picked to be Lieutenant." He explains with strained patience. "Like Gabby said, it's not like I ever wanted the position-I'm perfectly happy being a detective. What pisses me off," Decker's eyes flash with temper. "Is that he uses it as an excuse to be more of a dick than he usually is."

"You need to cut him some slack," Gabby opens a drawer and pulls out a couple of lollipops. Lucifer's eyes brighten when Gabby hands him one. "It's probably really stressful, being a Lieutenant."

"Whose side are you on, Gabby?" Decker demands.

"I'm not on anyone's side." She retorts, unwrapping her lollipop and sticking it in her mouth. She offers one to Joy, who shakes her head. "You and Charlie do this all the time. You fight and bicker like an old married couple for a few weeks, but eventually you make up because," her voice shifts into a singsong, "you love each other."

The laugh bursts out of Joy before she can stop it.

Decker looks positively insulted. "How dare-" Oddly, he breaks off, looking annoyed with himself. "I resent that."

"Resent it all you want." Gabby teases. "You know it's true."

"Right, well, getting back to more important topics." Joy busts in. They do have a murder to solve, after all. "Clive's probably in the wind by now, and I doubt he's going to go back to the apartment he lived in with Haley."

After a quick glare at the forensic scientist, Decker nods. "We'll send out a few officers to watch the apartment just in case he is that dumb. The good news is that I know where that old associate of his works. This should be fun." He snatches the abandoned lollipop off the table and stuffs it in his jacket.

"I'll text you if there is any movement on his credit card or bank accounts." Gabby assures them.

"Thanks, Gabby!" Decker calls over his shoulder as he leads them out of the lab.

Wondering what could be fun about hunting down a possible murderer's associate, Joy gives Gabby a grateful wave as she follows, Lucifer right behind her.

"So where exactly are we supposed to find this troll's associate?" Lucifer asks. If he's still upset by his son's earlier comment, he doesn't show it.

Decker's good humor seems to have been restored, because he spins around to give his father a grin. "Your favorite place, Dad. Paradise."

"Paradise Bar and Lounge." Joy reads the name out loud as she climbs out of the car.

"A bit of a misnomer," Decker climbs out of the driver's seat. "As it's not a lounge, nor is it truly Paradise. Just a bar that caters to a more degenerate clientele than most."

Joy studies the ramshackle exterior of the bar. It sits dejectedly in the middle of what used to be a strip mall before hard times hit the other stores and forced them to sell. Surrounded by for lease signs and empty lots, Paradise Bar and Lounge looks very much like the last guest to leave the party. The fluorescent sign flashes sporadically, as if even the bar isn't sure whether or not it's still in business.

"More like Paradise lost." Lucifer remarks sarcastically as he gazes around the half-empty parking lot. "I'm suddenly glad I didn't bring my own car."

Joy was just grateful the ride had been a short one. Lucifer had opted to ride with them, sitting right behind her as Decker drove. While she and Decker had talked mainly about the case, Lucifer had peppered Decker with what she supposed he considered "fatherly" questions (_when was the last time you had sex? Do your wings still pop out when you're frustrated? Have you always driven this slow_?).

At one point she almost interjected, until she caught the expression on Decker's face. There was a light in his eyes she hadn't seen before, and it occurred to her that this was probably the first time in a long while that Lucifer had taken an active interest in his son's life. While Decker had answered his father succinctly (o_ne week, you know I grew out of that_, and _shut up_), it was obvious that he saw these prying, intimate questions as a beacon of hope.

So she had kept her mouth shut.

"Ok, the guy we're looking for is Vincent Carramazo, or Vinny. He and Clive used to be buddies before Clive was put away last time." Decker tells Joy and his father. "He helped out on a few jobs, was even picked up a time or two, but they could never make anything stick."

"What makes you think he's here?" Joy eyes the bar apprehensively.

"He listed this as his place of employment." Decker assures her. "Hopefully, Vinny's heard from Clive and will know where to find him."

"Or the troll might come looking for him to enact revenge." Lucifer tells them both knowingly. "Since he got arrested while this friend of his escaped punishment."

"Either way, it's the best lead we got, so let's go in and ask around." Decker replies firmly.

Inside, the bar is just as dingy as its exterior. Smoke hangs thick in the air, and the floor doesn't look like it's been swept this millennium. The walls are bare except for some yellowed, framed liquor ads. A jukebox sits in one corner, as derelict as the dozen or so men in the room. Behind the bar is a skinny, grimy-looking bartender, whose scowl deepens when the three of them walk through the door.

"Cops." He says with disgust. Joy wonders how he can even tell through the haze. There's a swell of murmurs as the patrons of the bar all turn to glare in their direction.

Decker just smiles, unintimidated. "Technically, two cops and a consultant." He flashes his badge. "We're looking for Vinny Caramazzo. You gentlemen haven't heard from him recently, have you?"

There's a unified growl as the men in the bar slowly get to their feet. Joy's hand shifts to her gun. Lucifer, meanwhile, is gazing about the bar with an expression of disappointment, as if the bar has failed some sort of pop quiz.

"Come on now, speak up." He tells the men, unaware of the potential danger. "Surely one of you malcontents has heard from him. Just tell us and we'll let you get back to your, erm..." His gaze flicks to the bar with its dusty, grimy liquor bottles, "beverages."

"We don't talk to cops." One of the men steps forward. He's tall, a brute of a man, with a hard face and harder eyes. He gives both Decker and his father a disgusted once over before turning his attention to Joy, his eyes crawling up and down her body. His lips curl up in a leer. "Though we might make an exception for you, pretty thing. What do you say? There's a back room if you want to...interrogate me."

His lewd tone makes her skin crawl, and it's an effort not to wrinkle her nose with distaste. When she worked in Narcotics, she often had to play along in order not to blow her cover. She knows her expression is dutifully blank, denying the creep the satisfaction of seeing her grimace. She glances over at her partner, waiting for his signal on how he wants to play this.

Both Decker and his father have stiffened and are staring at the man in front of them with such predator-like intent it sends a chill down Joy's spine. Even the loud-mouth in front of them is affected, the leer slowly fading from his face he glances back and forth between father and son.

Decker is the first to thaw. He leans towards his father. "After you."

"Lovely." Lucifer murmurs with a chilly smile. He steps forward and punches the man in front of them so hard it sends him hurtling across the room.

Time seems to slow down as the patrons of the bar, enraged, launch themselves at Lucifer. Joy's hand goes for her gun, only to find herself being pushed gently to the opposite side of the bar by Decker, effectively getting her out of the way of the chaos. Decker joins her, leaning against the bar as if he couldn't care less that his father is surrounded by a crowd of irate, vicious men.

She finds out why pretty quickly. Lucifer may be outnumbered but is hardly outmatched.

He moves with breathtaking speed, evading knives and dodging fists with the grace of a martial artist. Blows don't land, weapons miss him completely, and soon the cries of rage turn into pained yelps as the crowd of men is whittled down to only a few. The rest lay on the floor-either moaning despondently or knocked out cold.

Joy grabs one of Decker's wrists, wide-eyed, as one man comes up behind Lucifer with a chair and slams it into his back. Instead of collapsing like she expects, Lucifer merely spins on his heel and backhands him, slamming his head onto a nearby table.

"Shouldn't you stop him?" She manages to ask over the clamor of splintering wood and bodies crashing to the floor. She winces as Lucifer effortlessly picks up a man twice his size and throws him into the wall behind the bar.

"What, and deny him the chance to defend your honor?" Decker has to shout over the sound of glass shattering as the shelves in front of them are crushed. The man slides unconscious to the floor. "He'd never forgive me. Ah, ah, ah. None of that now." Decker's spotted the bartender pulling out a shotgun from a hidden spot under the bar and pointing it at Lucifer's back. He snatches the gun out of the man's grip.

"Trust me, you'll just be hurting yourself." He tells the bartender firmly. He takes the gun and, with a strength she hadn't realized he had, slams it hard into a wall, breaking it into three pieces.

Joy stares at her partner. There's a boyish gleam in his eyes as he turns back to watch his father take on the last two men in the bar. He isn't going to be any help, she thinks with exasperation. He's like a little kid watching his favorite superhero fight the bad guys on television.

It seems that she is going to be playing the Voice of Reason in their little group. "We needed these men _conscious _in order to question them." She tells Decker. Lucifer has just thrown the last man to the floor with an unceremonious thump, adjusting his cuffs as if he hasn't been doing anything more strenuous than a round of darts.

"These idiots wouldn't have told us anything." Decker waves dismissively as he steps over the bodies strewing the bar floor. "This place is well-known for being a local watering hole for low level criminals-small-time drug dealers, thugs-for-hire and the like-they would never snitch. Besides, you heard Tiny, here." He nudges the man who had leered at her with a toe, and gives him a sharp kick in the shin. "'We don't talk to cops.'"

She can't help but grin at his passable imitation of the rude man. Decker claps his father appreciatively on the shoulder as he passes him, aiming towards the other end of the bar.

"Are you telling me I didn't actually have to touch any of these cretins?" Lucifer asks indignantly as he and Joy follow Decker to a door on the other side of the room.

"Like you didn't have fun." Decker retorts. He opens the door and reveals a broom closet. "But no, there are other people here who can give us some real answers."

"In the broom closet?" Joy asks, confused.

"This isn't the first experience I've had with this bar." Decker tells her, hastily relieving the cramped space of its cleaning supplies. Joy and Lucifer hover behind him. "Back when we were partners, Charlie and I worked this case-a guy who got into too much debt with his bookie and killed him to cover it up. We tracked him here, but by the time we showed up, he had vanished." Decker starts to run his hand along the top half of the closet wall, near the ceiling. "We thought we lost the guy for good. But then we started to do some research." He glances over his shoulder and catches Joy's expression. "Ok, _Charlie_ did some research. Turns out, this place was built in the 1920's, right in the throes of Prohibition."

"A bloody stupid concept." is Lucifer's only comment.

Decker continues on, still running his hand along the top of the wall. "This place was one of the many speakeasies that popped up during that time. Once we found that out, we dug up some old blueprints of the building-" Decker grunts, and Joy hears the soft snick of a hidden latch, "and discovered the entrance." The wall opens up to reveal a set of stairs.

"A secret passageway." Joy breathes.

Decker smiles and takes a flashlight out of his jacket pocket, illuminating the cramped staircase that leads down into a dark, dank hallway. "There are a few rooms down below, where the owners used to store their illegal alcohol and brewing equipment. Perps of all kinds had been using it as a hide-out."

"A clubhouse for criminals hidden underneath Paradise." Lucifer smiles with delight. "How inspiring."

He gallantly motions for Joy to precede him onto the staircase, putting her between the two men as they descend into the darkness below.

Decker's voice floats up from the dark. "It's not a hideout anymore. Once Charlie and I found our guy, we had it cleaned out." Decker gets to the bottom of the stairs and holds the light up so that Lucifer and Joy can file down without breaking their necks. "Though we did keep the two cases of illegally brewed brandy we found." He gives her a grin, his face a bit ghoulish in the dim light of the corridor.

Lucifer snaps his fingers. "I thought that brandy tasted different." He says, as if a mystery has finally been solved. "Those Prohibition liquors always had an unusual piquancy compared to the regular stuff-as if they managed to somehow bottle the contraband inside of it." He tucks his hands into his pockets. "You think this Vinny, or our troll, is hiding down here?"

"Possibly." Decker goes up to the door and knocks. "This place came under new management a few months ago. But lucky for us, I have an in."

There's a thump from the other side of the door, and Joy gets a small thrill as a peephole opens and a voice asks for a password, just like in the movies.

"Long live the Queen." Decker intones. He turns off his flashlight and shoves it back in his jacket pocket at the sounds of locks being turned. Joy blinks as light washes into the corridor.

A large man with several neck tattoos exchanges nods with Decker. "Come on in."

Decker leads the way inside, Joy and Lucifer right behind him. The space below is as large as the bar upstairs but a lot cleaner. No dirt floors in this basement, but solid mahogany that has been meticulously polished, along with the tables and chairs scattered about the room. A stereo system is set up in the corner, notes from a popular rock song an underscore to the usual bar chatter. The bar itself takes up the wall to their left, filled with bottles of higher quality alcohol than what was offered upstairs. The room is spacious enough to be cut in half by a red, thick velvet curtain not unlike one found on a theater stage, with ample room to spare. Near the top of the curtain is a neon sign, the letters written in cursive.

_The Garden _she reads.

The appearance and mood of this underground bar is so different from upstairs it's staggering. They could have easily been in an upscale club like Lux, as opposed to what used to be an underground bunker. Not exactly what she expected from a criminal den.

"How are you doing, Leroy?" Decker asks the man who had let them in.

The man closes the door behind them. "I've been worse."

"I sincerely doubt it." Lucifer mutters under his breath. His eyes travel over the conversing bar patrons, the plush curtains, and linger on the bar.

Decker's mouth twitches. "Leroy, I'd like to introduce you to my father, Lucifer Morningstar."

Joy holds her breath as Lucifer and the man size each other up.

"Nice to meet you." Leroy says after a long moment.

Lucifer sniffs. "Of course it is."

"And this is my new partner, Detective Roberts." Decker nods in the man's direction. "Leroy is second in command here, knows everyone who has ever come into the place."

Joy nods, appreciating a contact who can help lead them to the suspect.

"New partner, huh?" Leroy asks after a searching look at her. It wasn't like the disgusting man upstairs-this look is a professional assessment. "The Queen will be interested to hear that."

Apprehension prickles between Joy's shoulder blades.

Decker doesn't seem to find anything unusual about all of this. He takes out his phone. "We just have a couple of questions, Leroy, and then we'll be out of-"

"You know the rules." Leroy tells Decker sternly. "We don't talk to cops until we get the go ahead from the Queen."

Irritation buzzes under Joy's skin. "Did we happen to mention that we're looking for a murder suspect?" She asks the man tightly. "Maybe it would be easier to bring you in on obstruction charges, rather than waste time we could be using to catch a killer."

The man's eyebrows rise up his forehead, but he smiles at Decker. "Scrappy, this one." He tells him appreciatively. "The Queen will like her."

"Is she here?" Decker asks. "Because my partner is right, we could take you in on obstruction charges, and I'd hate to do that." He returns the man's smile, but his is sharper-a threat.

Leroy doesn't seem impressed. "She's here. I'll go get her and you can ask your questions. Just wait here," His smile turns mocking. "_Samael_."

Joy hears him snicker as he turns away. He strides towards the velvet curtain and sticks his head through, speaking to someone on the other side.

Decker glowers at the man's back but waits until he's a distance away before grumbling in an undertone. "I can't _believe _she told him my real name."

Joy blinks. "Wait-your name really is Samael?" She honestly thought she had misheard.

"Family name," Decker growls. He's so indignant that she has to bite back her own laugh. "I didn't choose it."

Lucifer catches his son's glare. "Don't look at me. I wanted to name you Bruce-you know, like Lee, or Springsteen. It was your mother who insisted on that name."

"Knowing you as I do, Father, I doubt that." Decker drawls. He and Lucifer exchange looks of mutual annoyance.

"So," Joy interjects, hoping to avoid re-living the scene upstairs. "What's the deal with this place? It reminds me of a cop bar."

"It has its share of those." Decker agrees, nodding genially to a couple of men seated in the back who are waving at him enthusiastically. "Along with a few attorneys, EMTs, nurses and social workers. You'll also find some petty criminals. Not like the men upstairs, but plenty of the patrons here have records." He waves a hand to encompass the room. "In here, sinners and saints can mingle freely. Everyone and anyone are welcome, so long as they follow the rules."

"What are the rules?" Joy eyes the men and women scattered around the bar, but is unable to spot the criminals among them.

"Don't ask, don't tell." Decker replies. "Total anonymity. Here, there are no good guys and bad guys-just people." The corners of his mouth quirk up in a smile. "So sayeth the Queen."

"That keeps coming up. Who is this Queen?" She demands.

Decker grins as Leroy holds back the curtain to allow a petite, dark-haired woman through. "Just the owner. A few months ago, an enterprising young woman took over this place with the intention of creating a haven where only one person knows the stories of everyone in this room. And nobody speaks to her-ah-subjects without her consent."

Joy eyes her partner, noting the affection in his voice. Whoever this so-called Queen was, Decker was fond of her. And she knew his real name. "Let me guess." She says dryly. "Old girlfriend?"

Decker smirks as Leroy approaches them, the woman on his arm. "Not mine." He nods his head in his father's direction. "His."

Lucifer stares down the woman in front of them, stunned

"Eve?" He chokes out. "This is your bar?"

The woman, Eve, gives him a brilliant smile. "Lucifer! Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes?" She leans forward to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. "I almost didn't believe it when Leroy told me you were here. I'm so glad to see that you're working again." She beams at the three of them, as bubbly as the hostess of a cocktail party. She's dressed in a flowing, cherry-red jumpsuit under a fitted black jacket. Joy's amused to see that even with her unnervingly high heels she's still several inches shorter than Lucifer or Decker.

"Just for this one case, Eve." Lucifer informs her. "What made you decide to open a bar, of all things?"

"It was you who gave me the idea, Luce." Eve tucks a curl of luscious chestnut hair behind her ear. "When I first came to Earth, you helped me realize that it doesn't matter who you used to be. What matters is who you want to become. So, when I learned this place was up for grabs, I thought I'd pay it forward."

"And how is running an underground bar helping with that, exactly?" Lucifer asks, still disgruntled.

"This bar can only be found by those who wish for the freedom to be themselves. Be they heroes, thieves...or the former King of Hell." Eve gives him a broad smile. "In the Garden, we don't let the past define us. Once you walk through that door," she gestures behind them, "who you truly want to become is up to you."

Lucifer's expression softens. "Well, it doesn't quite match the sophistication of Lux," He allows. "But it's a far cry from the hovel upstairs. You've seem to become quite the entrepreneur, Eve."

Eve smiles, linking her hands in front of her. "I try." She says humbly.

"So many changes in so little time...tell me, are you and Maze still an item?" Lucifer asks his ex-girlfriend. "That hasn't changed?"

"Going on thirty years." Eve tells him proudly.

What, did they start dating when they were embryos? Eve looks hardly older than Joy, how could she have been dating someone for thirty years, let alone having dated Lucifer first?

While Eve is still gushing about her girlfriend, it finally sinks in-Maze. There can't possibly be two of them, so it has to be the same Maze who hit on her at Lux.

Joy wheezes.

"She's so supportive. She'll even stop by with her bounties after she's caught them. Treats them to a drink, introduces them to Leroy...Leroy was one of her bounties at one time too, weren't you?" She pats Leroy on the arm.

Leroy's smile is just as admiring as Lucifer's. "Yes, milady."

"He calls me milady." Eve tells Lucifer brightly.

"As he should." Lucifer smiles at her. "I'm...glad you're happy, Eve."

Eve gives his shoulder a gentle, compassionate squeeze before turning her attention to Decker.

"I swear, Sam, you get more handsome every day." She pats Decker's cheek with the air of an aunt fussing over her favorite nephew. "Just wait, you're going to be more handsome than your father soon."

Lucifer's snort lets them all know what he thinks of that.

Lips twisted in a wry smile, Decker gazes down at the woman. "I appreciate the sentiment, Eve." His expression sours. "But did you have to go and tell everybody my real name?" He complains. "I mean, seriously, it's not like I didn't get enough crap for it in elementary school. I haven't even told anyone at the precinct."

Eve's eyes dance wickedly. "Oh, but it's such a wonderful name." She insists. "Samael. Almost angelic, don't you think?" Her mouth curved into a smirk, she turns to Joy before Decker can sputter out a response. "I'm so sorry, I didn't realize we had another guest." She bounces over to inspect Joy with interest. "Hello. I'm Eve."

No last name, Joy notes with some skepticism. She probably thinks she really is Eve from the Bible. Was everyone in Decker's life this deluded? "Detective Roberts. Nice to meet you."

The wattage on Eve's smile goes up, and she lets out a thrilled gasp as she glances back and forth between Joy and Decker. "Oh, Sam, you got your own Detective!" She claps her hands together. "Oh, and she's so beautiful, too. Look at those _eyes_. I don't think I've seen that shade of green since Eden."

Joy feels her barriers collapsing around her. In this job she rarely gets compliments, and even more rarely are they said with such sincerity. Against her will, she feels her mouth tilting up in a reciprocating smile.

"Aw, thanks." She gestures to the bar around her. "I love what you've done to the place. Much better than upstairs."

Eve is appropriately gratified. "Oh, thank you. You should have Sam bring you back sometime when the two of you aren't working a case. Drinks are on me."  
"They can just as easily have drinks at Lux." Lucifer says, a bit sullenly.

Decker grabs Eve's arm and gently tugs her back towards him. "That's great, Eve, but I need you to focus now." For the first time since she's met him, Decker seems flustered. Gone is the air of superior amusement, replaced with something close to desperation as he takes out his phone and shoves it under Eve's nose. "Have you seen this guy? His name is Clive Fleming."

Eve inspects the picture. "No, I don't think so. I'm pretty sure I'd remember him."

"Hard to forget a face that ugly." Lucifer agrees. "I'm surprised the camera didn't break when they took his picture."

Joy remembers that they are supposed to be working a case. "Have you ever heard of someone named Vinny Caramazzo?" she asks Eve. "We think he might be a friend of Clive's."

Eve brightens. "Oh, Vinny? Oh yes, he's one of my bartenders." Her brows furrow in concern. She's realized who she's talking to. "He's not in trouble, is he?"

"No, not him. Clive is a suspect in a murder case. We're just hoping Vinny will know how to get a hold of him." Decker assures her.

"All right. But no asking about his past." Eve's shed her lighthearted demeanor like a coat. Her back straightens, and she gives Decker a stern look. "You know the rules, Sam."

Decker shakes his head. "You know I wouldn't even ask if it wasn't important, Eve."

Eve nods at Leroy, who strides to the back corner of the bar to whisper in a man's ear. He and the man join them, the man placing himself in between Leroy and Eve.

"I'm Vinny." He greets them, his hands twitching nervously at his sides. He's thin and swarthy, with dark hair just turning grey and a wispy mustache. His dark eyes jump from Lucifer, Decker, to Joy and back again. "You wanted to talk to me?"

Decker opens his mouth but Joy, running on instinct, shifts just enough so that she's just in front of Decker. "Hi, Vinny." She keeps her voice warm and friendly. "We just have a few questions for you, if that's all right."

She adjusts her stance, knowing her body posture is important. Talking to the police obviously makes Vinny nervous, and the more aggressive they appear, the less they'll be able to get out of him. She keeps her shoulders loose, almost submissive, and she can see the man relax marginally.

"Do you know a man named Clive Fleming?" She asks, and the man nods.

"Clive and I were buddies, back in the day. He called me a few weeks ago, to tell me he got out on parole."

Lucifer asks impatiently, "Yes, yes, but did he ever discuss murdering a waitress with you?"

Joy grinds her teeth at Lucifer's tart question, especially when Vinny's face drains of color.

"M-murder? No, Clive wouldn't murder anyone. He's not a bad guy...in fact, when he called, he said he was planning on finally going straight. Wanted to know if I knew anyone hiring for jobs." Vinny stares at her pleadingly. "I was going to bring him here, but before I could, he called me again and said he got a job at a diner. He sounded really excited about it."

"It's ok, Vinny." Eve places a gentle hand on his arm. "These detectives are good at their jobs. I'm sure if Clive is innocent, they'll figure it out."

"But we do need to talk to him." Like her, Decker keeps his voice light and conversational. Non-threatening. "Do you know where he would go?"

Vinny shakes his head. "He must have had a place to stay, but I don't know where it was. As far as I know, his family all gave up on him." Vinny gives them a sad smile. "It's hard for family and friends to believe you've gone straight, especially if you've screwed up as many times as we have."

"It sounds like you're a good friend, Vinny." Joy tells the man gently. "And I'm sure if Clive is innocent, we'll get to the bottom of it. But we are going to need to talk to him, in order to prove it. Do you know any way we can do that?"

Vinny bites his lip. "I could call him." He says reluctantly. "I could ask him to meet me here."

"We'd appreciate it, Vinny." Joy smiles at him. "If he's really a good guy like you say, then there should be nothing to worry about."

"Yeah. Ok. Ok." Vinny lets out a sigh. "I'll call him and have him meet me upstairs." He turns away from them, pulling out his phone.

Joy feels a tap on her shoulder.

"Nice work." Decker murmurs. "You got him to tell us more than I was expecting."

Joy turns around to face both Decker and his father. "Yeah, but we have to be careful." She says in a low voice. "If Clive gets even a whiff of cops he's going to run."

"Oh, we can help with that." Eve has nudged her way into their little huddle. She gives them all a generous smile. "Just let me get a few of my subjects."


	5. Chapter Four: Decker Family Drama

Sam sits in one of the darker corners of the bar, watching his partner chat with Eve while keeping a weather eye on the front door. He hides a smile. It took a person with a colder heart than his new partner to resist Eve's charms.

He sniffs the air, and frowns across the table at his father, who has somehow managed to procure a joint. "Where did you get that?"

"One of the men downstairs had some on him." His father takes a deep inhale, and offers it to Sam. "It's pretty good stuff, want to try?"

"No, thanks."

"Since when are you too good to share a joint with your old man?"

"Since we're busy trying to catch a possible murder suspect?" He answers dryly. He glances over and sighs at his father's hurt stare. "Put it away for now. I'll drop by the penthouse later tonight and we can finish it off."

With a smile, his father puts the joint out and slips it into his jacket pocket. "Remind me why we're hiding here in a corner instead of sitting at the bar?"

"If this guy's anything like Vinny, he's not going to react well if he sees the two of us waiting for him. Better that he sees Roberts and Eve first." He nods as Vinny brings over a tray with two shots of whiskey for him and his father. Eve had kindly offered up a few of her people to clean the bar above ground-including the removal of the still-unconscious men. They were surprisingly efficient, and the bar now appears more or less the same as when they arrived. Which isn't saying much, if Sam says so himself.

"Roberts and Eve don't look as threatening, so he's less likely to spook. I'd rather not have to chase after him." He takes a sip of the whiskey and makes a face. "Grandfather help me, this stuff is no better than rubbing alcohol."

His father hasn't even bothered, opting to just take out his own flask. "Well, what did you expect? I'd be shocked to find this place has indoor plumbing." His father shakes the flask at him. "Well?"

This time, Sam smiles. "Got my own." He reaches into one of the many secret pockets of his leather jacket and pulls out the engraved, onyx flask he got for his eighteenth birthday.

His father's face lights up. "Whiskey?"

"Rum."

Eagerly, his father holds out his flask. "Switch?"

With a quick glance to make sure his partner's back is still towards him, he switches flasks and takes a gulp of his father's top-shelf whiskey.

"Mmm." His father says after taking a drink from Sam's flask. "Excellent. You've got good taste."

He's thirty-six going on thirty-seven but his father's approval still creates a warm glow under Sam's breastbone. He takes another sip of whiskey to hide it.

"Your new partner is doing well." His father comments as they watch her and Eve chuckle over something at the bar. "If she hadn't told me, I wouldn't even have known this was her first case." His gaze slides over to Sam. "Quite attractive, too." He adds slyly.

He doesn't take the bait. It's just like his father to poke at him about how attractive his new partner is. "Yeah, her talents were definitely wasted in Narcotics. I'm more surprised at how well she's taking all the Devil stuff."

He won't admit it, but he's pleased at Robert's reaction to his father. He doesn't have a lot of people in his life that he considers real friends-people he trusts above all else. Very few could handle the drama that came with dealing with his family, his father especially. It was one of the reasons he was so resistant to the idea of a partner who wasn't a family member.

But while Roberts doesn't seem to be entirely sold on the whole "Son-Of-The-Devil" thing, she's taking it all in stride. Maybe she'll actually want to stick around.

His father isn't quite as optimistic. "That's because she doesn't really believe it." He takes another sip from Sam's flask. "They never do."

Sam doesn't get a chance to respond, because at that moment the door opens and in walks Clive Fleming.

"Here we go." He murmurs. He and his father shift in their seats, just enough so that they can get up in a hurry if they need to.

"He's even worse-looking in person." His father whispers. Sam shoots him a warning look.

Clive goes up to the bar, his eyes flicking left and right anxiously-searching for a trap. Sam pretends to take a drink from his shot glass, keeping his expression bland. Just a regular guy getting a drink with his buddy/father.

Visibly relaxing, Clive wanders up to the bar, right next to Roberts. Sam watches intently as Clive and Vinny exchange pleasantries. So far, so good.

But too quickly, Vinny's expression changes. Clive tenses, and Sam knows that their quarry has figured out something is up. Before Sam can move to intercept, Roberts lays a hand on the man's shoulder. Clive jerks frantically, but in one fluid movement Roberts has his arms behind his back and is cuffing him.

Sam raises his brows, impressed in spite of himself. The whole sting went down faster than he could have dreamed. "Wonderful." He gets to his feet, his father right behind him.

"Hello, Clive." He greets the man easily. "I'm afraid you'll have to come with us."

"I didn't do anything, I swear!" Clive struggles wildly in Robert's grip.

"Then why were your fingerprints on one of the knives that killed Haley?" Roberts demands coolly. If she's having trouble holding the taller, heavier man in place she doesn't show it. If Sam hadn't found her attractive before, he certainly does now.

Clive freezes in place.

"Haley's dead?" he whispers. His tone is so horrified that Sam almost believes the man really didn't know.

"Yes, that's typically what happens when you stab someone six times." His father quips. "There was no need to overdo it, once was probably enough."

Sam is aware of Eve and her so-called "subjects" watching them. "Look, let's go down to the station and talk this over." He tells Clive in a friendly voice that has fooled more sophisticated killers. "We just want to hear your side of the story." He nods at Roberts. "I called in a few unis before we came up here, they should be outside by now. Go put him in a cruiser and we'll take him back to the precinct." He gives her one of his best smiles. "Excellent work, by the way."

He's a little disappointed when she just gives him an absent nod and nudges their charge out of the bar ahead of her.

He turns his head to find Eve beaming at him. "She's lovely, Sam."

"Well, it's hard not to be lovely around you, Eve." He gives his adopted aunt a grateful hug.

Sam's mother had been an only child, and while his father has a whole mob of siblings, Sam doesn't see them often. Instead, he had grown up with his parents' friends filling a lot of the traditional family roles. Eve accepted her role as Sam's surrogate aunt with enthusiasm, treating it as one of the multiple new experiences she's had since ditching Heaven.

"Thanks for all the help...your Majesty." He kisses her hand with a smile. He had been the one to tell Eve about the abandoned speakeasy in the first place.

"Of course. You let me know if you need anything else." Eve feigns giving him a peck on the cheek so that she can murmur in his ear. "See you Sunday?"

"Naturally." He shifts so that his father can get a clear view of his ex-girlfriend.

"It was good to see you, Eve." his father says, a bit awkwardly. Sam is pretty sure that seeing Eve again has thrown him off balance. Not that he'll ever admit it.

Luckily, Eve takes it with her usual grace. "It was good to see you too, Luce." She places a gentle hand on his arm. "Try not to be such a stranger from now on. I've missed you."

His father just gives her a wan smile and walks out of the bar.

Eve frowns after him, concerned. "I do hope you know what you're doing, Sam." She says in a low voice.

Sam doesn't take his eyes off his retreating father. "Me too, Eve." he agrees quietly. "Me too."

Sam curses loudly when he notices who's waiting by his desk.

"Charlie!" His father brushes past him to clap his cousin on the shoulder. "I suppose congratulations are in order, on the whole...Lieutenant thing." He gestures to Charlie's uniform. Unlike the past lieutenants, who would dress semi-casually in the precinct, Charlie likes to let everyone know he's in charge by wearing the official garb every day. If Sam were feeling charitable, he would say that Charlie's broad, solid frame in the uniform simply looked natural, a suitable complement to the air of authority that Charlie has carried around him since they were kids. But he has a bad feeling he isn't going to be feeling charitable after he hears what Charlie has to say.

"Thanks, Uncle Luci." Charlie crosses his arms over his chest. "I heard you got yourself a suspect in the Sanders case. Good work."

"_We_ got ourselves a suspect in the murder." Sam intervenes before his father can take all the credit. "Though I'm not one hundred percent certain it was him."

"Wasn't it his fingerprints on the murder weapon?" Charlie's mild tone sets Sam's teeth on edge.

He and Charlie had had their differences over the years, but they had worked well as partners. Sam would even go so far as to admit-grudgingly- that Charlie had been a good detective before he was made lieutenant.

His cousin was a firm believer in every case deserving the same amount of dedication, no matter the victim's background; rich or poor, black or white, drug dealer or innocent co-ed, Charlie fought equally hard for all of them. Justice, he had told Sam more than once, belonged to everyone.

But Charlie was also a believer in cold, hard facts.

Sam knows that they have a murder weapon-one of two, apparently-and the man whose fingerprints were on that weapon, but there's still something in his gut saying that Clive might not be their guy. And his mother had taught him to always listen to his gut.

Sam opens his mouth, knowing it's futile, when a voice rings out behind him.

"I agree with Detective Decker."

Sam blinks, certain that he's heard wrong. But no, Roberts is definitely standing next to him, backing him up.

Roberts continues, "He sounded honestly surprised when we told him Haley was dead, and he doesn't seem clever enough to fake his reaction. And everyone knew he worked at the same diner she did-it would have been easy to get a knife with his fingerprints and plant it." She shrugs. "I suppose I could be wrong, but him being the killer doesn't sit right."

His father frowns thoughtfully. "He did seem rather easy to catch, for a killer." He allows.

Sam's warm pleasure at his father and Roberts' support is quickly snuffed out when Charlie replies. "You two might have a point, but that doesn't explain what happened to the second knife. Uncle Luci, you're a veteran here. Why don't you and Roberts take point on the interview?" Charlie nods at Sam. "Detective Decker and I will listen in." Without waiting for agreement, he strides off to the observation room.

His father and Roberts seem genuinely surprised by this order, though only Roberts gives him a commiserating glance before heading in to interview Clive.

Sam keeps his face blank as he walks through the squad room. It's only when he's safely inside the observation room with Charlie that he snaps.

"So now, not only do I need a partner but I can't be trusted to interview suspects?" He slams the door behind him. "Is one of your goals as Lieutenant to be a pain in my ass?"

Charlie doesn't take his eyes off the interview room. "Calm down, Sam. This might shock you, but I don't make these decisions just to piss you off."

"Then why did you assign me a partner, when you knew full well that I was planning on bringing my father in as a consultant? Hell, Charlie, you signed off on it!"

"The brass has been on me for ages to assign you a partner, Sam. I held them off for as long as I could." Charlie sends him a withering glance. "I was your partner, remember? I know better than most how you can be. You're reckless, have little regard for the rules and procedures-"

"None of which prevents me from being one of the best detectives in the department." Sam snaps back. It wasn't vanity if it was true.

He stalks over to stand on the other side of the room, leaning against the wall. Through the two-way glass he can see Roberts enter the interview room, his father right behind her, and take a seat with her back to him. His father is off to one side, his attention on Clive but letting Roberts take the lead.

The sight is so familiar that it causes an ache in his chest. He had lost count of the number of times he had snuck into the precinct as a kid to watch his parents question a suspect in this exact manner.

An absolutely horrific notion follows on the tail end of that thought. "Please don't tell me that you made Roberts my partner because you're trying to match her up with my father." He makes a gagging sound that's not quite a joke.

He's grateful to see that Charlie looks just as repulsed by the idea as he is. "Are you crazy? Of course not." He lets out a gusty sigh. "You need someone to help balance out your more erratic qualities, Cousin. Why do you think your parents worked so well as partners? Your mother's stable nature balanced out your father's volatile one." Charlie glances at him sidelong. "You and your father are too much alike, Sam. Having just the two of you be partners would have been a disaster." Charlie motions to Roberts. "I assigned you to Roberts because out of all the candidates, she seemed like the best fit for you...and for Uncle Luci."

Before Sam can question him further, Charlie presses the button that allows them to listen in, and Roberts' voice fills the room.

"We have your fingerprints on the weapon we found, Clive." Roberts pulls out the pictures of the crime scene and lays them in front of the suspect. "We know you worked with Haley, and that you two lived together. That's a lot of connections between you and the victim to be just a coincidence."

His father chimes in. "Yes, and how did you manage to win the affections of such a beautiful girl with your troll-like appearance?" He puts his palms flat on the table and leans towards the suspect. "I'm genuinely curious...I'd say you must have made a deal with the devil, but I'm pretty sure I'd remember that."

Clive stares at both Roberts and his father. "Wait...you think Haley and I were dating." He makes a noise of disgust. "She was my niece, for God's sake!"

Sam's father jerks back from the table, startled.

"Didn't see that coming." Sam murmurs. Charlie, he's gratified to see, seems just as stunned.

"Haley was your niece." Roberts says slowly. She didn't react quite as dramatically to Clive's statement, but Sam can hear the shock in her voice. "That's why you were living with her?"

Clive shifts nervously in his seat. "'I've always been the screw-up in the family." He explains after a short pause. "In and out of trouble for most of my life. My parents, my sister, my ex-wife, they all gave up on me a long time ago, and I don't blame them." He smiles a little. "But not Haley. She wrote to me the entire time I was in prison. I told her not to bother, that I wasn't worth it, but Haley always believed that there was good in everyone. She was so sure I could turn my life around. It got to the point where I kind of started to believe it too, you know?"

Sam's eyes are on his father. His back is to the window so Sam can't see his face, but he's gone rigid.

Clive keeps talking. "She was the first person I called when I got out. Her father-my brother-in-law-was pissed when he found out. Stopped talking to her. But she still offered to help me. She got me a job at the diner she worked at, let me sleep on her couch…"

"She wanted to help you be a better person." Roberts is good. There's no judgement in her voice, only gentle encouragement. An invitation for Clive to keep opening up.

"She did." Clive wipes his eyes on his sleeve. "Sometimes it felt like she was the only one who believed in me. Now there's no one left." He adds sadly.

"All right, this is all a bit too depressing." His father exclaims. Sam wonders if he's the only one who can hear the quiet note of panic in his father's voice. "Let's just settle this now, shall we?" He sits in the empty chair across from Clive, staring hard at the ex-con. "Tell me, troll...what is it that you desire?"

Clive's face slackens as the need to answer overtakes his natural reticence. "I...I want to keep my family from suffering more than they already have." He says dreamily. "They've had to go through so much because of me, and I don't want to hurt them anymore."

Roberts leans forward in her seat. "You didn't kill Haley." It's a statement, not a question. Sam wishes that she was facing him so he could read her reaction. He's curious as to what she thinks of his father's interrogation methods.

Clive blinks rapidly, like he's just surfaced from underwater. "No, of course not! I loved Haley, I wouldn't do anything to hurt her, not after all she did for me. That's why I ran when I saw the police cars at the diner. I thought maybe there had been a burglary or something, and I didn't want to get Haley in trouble with her boss. Not everyone likes hiring an ex-con. I didn't know it was because…" Grief that is too raw to be feigned echoes across his face. "Who would do that to such a good girl?"

Sam rubs his temple, frustrated. His gut was right, Clive isn't their guy, which means they are back at square one.

"That's what we plan to find out." Roberts tells the ex-con.

Charlie clicks the speaker off. No reason for them to listen in. It would be pretty shocking if Clive had any new information for them.

"Looks like you and your partner were right." Charlie observes. "He's not the killer."

Sam is both triumphant and disappointed. Triumphant because he was right-but that means that the poor girl's killer is still out there.

He leans his head back against the wall, closing his eyes. He had been the one to take the statements from Haley's boss and co-workers. Haley had been beloved by all of them, the pet of the entire staff. She had been a sweet, considerate girl, always happy to take on an extra shift if it meant helping out a fellow waitress. She had been studying at the local community college-sociology. She had wanted to be a social worker. She had wanted to spend her life helping people.

And now that life had been snuffed out, and they had nothing, _nothing_-

"Sam." His cousin's voice cuts through Sam's raging thoughts.

He opens his eyes, knowing without looking at his reflection that they've changed from their normal blue-grey to a deep, burning red.

His cousin is gazing at him compassionately. "You'll get him."

Sam studies his cousin. In looks and personality, they are like night and day-much like their fathers, in that respect. But despite their differences, they had been solid partners before Charlie abandoned him to become Lieutenant.

Most of their co-workers thought that the reason Sam was upset about Charlie's promotion was because he had wanted the job for himself, but Sam had actually dared Charlie to take the Lieutenant's exam, even while knowing his cousin would pass.

But he had never expected Charlie to be offered the job, nor had he expected his cousin to just throw away their partnership of seven years and _accept _the position. Especially a mere two months after the death of Sam's mother, when Sam was still reeling from the loss of not one, but two parents.

Still, his cousin's unwavering faith steadies him, helps him push back his anger and focus on the case.

Sam breathes out hard through his nose. "Unlikely, seeing as we no longer have any leads. Unless." he frowns. "Whoever killed Haley left a knife with Clive's fingerprints on it. Maybe it's not Haley they wanted to suffer, but Clive." He paces to better utilize the skills he inherited from both parents-his mother's analytical mind and his father's extensive knowledge of punishment. "Clive loved Haley, so killing her and setting Clive up to take the fall works to torture him on multiple levels. He not only loses someone who loved and believed in him, but he also goes to jail for her murder."

"You think whoever did this is after Clive?"

"It's possible. I'll have Gabby draw up a list of contacts, see if anyone fits the mold." Sam crosses his arms over his chest. Listening to the interview had distracted him, but now he's remembering he's supposed to be angry at Charlie, not himself.

"So why wasn't I allowed in there, _Lieutenant_? It's not like I haven't ever interviewed a murder suspect before."

Sam did inherit the ability to get humans to reveal to him their darkest, deepest secrets and desires from his father, but unfortunately, he found that it only worked when he was in his angel form-in other words, when his wings were out. Seeing how this was rather inconvenient-most humans simply couldn't handle seeing proof of the divine-Sam had to learn how to interrogate suspects the normal way.

Charlie leans against the wall across from him, so that their bodies mirror each other. "I didn't call you in here because I didn't think you could handle yourself," he says after a moment. "I did it so that I could talk to you without your father listening in." They both angle their heads to check that Sam's father is still in the interview room. "How's he doing?"

Sam shrugs. "You know how he is. He's...Dad." That pretty much sums it up, and Charlie nods knowingly. "He's stable."

"Good. How's he been around Roberts?"

Sam narrows his eyes thoughtfully. "He likes her, I think. As much as he likes most humans." His father enjoyed the company of humans, unlike most of his celestial siblings, but it was a detached sort of enjoyment. For the most part he treated them like toys, to be picked up and played with whenever he was bored. There were a few he genuinely liked as _people_, but Sam isn't sure where Roberts falls on that scale just yet.

"You think she likes him?"

"Of course." He and Charlie chorus, "What's not to like?"

They chuckle, and Sam is reminded that, even though Charlie frequently pisses him off, he's one of the few people who truly gets what it was like to grow up with his father.

Charlie's expression sobers. "You're playing a dangerous game here, Sam."

"I told you, he's stable." Sam scowls. "Is that what all this is about? Your own mother said that consulting might help." He supposes that it's too much to hope for that this experience convinces his father to return to therapy, too.

After his mother died, Sam's Aunt Linda had offered her help to guide his father through his grief, but before they could convince him to go, his father had taken off. Even once he returned, his father refused to call Sam's aunt to schedule a session.

Charlie nods once in acknowledgement. "True, she did. But I doubt she told you to lie to him."

"I'm not lying." Sam protests.

"Ah, so you told him about our trip to Heaven? You told him the real plan, the one you and _your mother_ devised?" Charlie stares at him grimly. "You're letting him think that this was some sort of therapy treatment concocted by my mom. He's going to find out, and you and I both know how he's going to react if he even suspects you might be manipulating him."

"If there is one thing he can't stand, it's being manipulated." Sam agrees, shoving away from the wall. He takes the flask out of his pocket, absently noting he is still carrying his father's silver one, and takes a defiant sip. "But it's not like I have been lying, per se. I've just been omitting certain facts." Charlie just looks at him. They both know how his father will take that excuse. "I was going to come clean once the case is solved. After we've caught and punished a killer, like he used to do." He glances into the interview room and groans when he finds it empty. "Oh, hell. How long have they been gone?"

"It's all right, we're done here, anyway." Charlie straightens up, twisting back and forth to get the knots out of his spine. "I just wanted to make sure you know what you are doing."

"Of course I do." Sam says with more confidence than he truly feels. "This will work, you'll see."

"All right. Then get back to work, Detective-"

"Hold on," Sam says sharply, before Charlie can open the door. "I'm still curious about why you assigned Roberts to me as a partner. What is it about her that makes you think she's a good fit?"

Charlie is silent for a long moment, one hand on the knob. "I think I'll keep that to myself for a while longer." He grins over his shoulder at Sam. "Good luck."

With a dry chuckle, he walks out.

Sam huffs. "And people say my _dad's_ evil." he grumbles, and hurries out to go see what Roberts and his father have managed to come up with.

"I'm starting to wonder if Clive was playing us that whole time." Joy complains as she stares at the four mug shots up on the projection screen. "Maybe he's a better actor than we gave him credit for."

Decker, Lucifer, Gabby and herself have taken over one of the nearby conference rooms to discuss the case, not that there is much to discuss. The room smells faintly of coffee, emanating from the untouched cups that sit alongside the piles of evidence notes, crime scene pictures, and other case-relevant paperwork that litters the conference room table. None of which have given them any new leads.

She taps her fingers against her thigh, agitated. This is her first homicide case, and they keep hitting roadblocks at every turn.

"Maybe we would have more if you had let me rough him up a bit, like I'd suggested." Lucifer says, shooting her a wounded look. He had asked her shortly before they went to interview Clive, claiming that he had often gotten more satisfactory answers whenever he did. Naturally she had refused, and was a bit surprised that he had listened to her.

There's no doubt that Lucifer's weird ability to get the suspect to talk worked without additional violence, though it still baffles her. As far as she can tell, Lucifer didn't really _do _anything. All he did was ask a simple question, and the suspect had acted almost as if he was compelled to answer. It was as if Lucifer had used some sort of hypnosis.

Had he used the same thing on her earlier today? And if so, why hasn't she felt it since this morning?

Her questions will have to wait until later, after they've found poor Haley's killer.

"Don't go second guessing your instincts." Decker tells her, his eyes on the projection screen. "He did give us four new potential suspects, after all." He leans around her to ask his cousin, "Are you sure these guys are clean, Gabby?"

"Positive. I dug so deep into their whereabouts, I'm surprised I didn't end up in China." Gabby replies, sipping from her coffee mug- not one of the precinct's typical white ones but a mug covered in pink glitter that she must have brought from home. "They all have airtight alibis." She points to the one on the far left, "This one was with his girlfriend-confirmed, because apparently they have ridiculously noisy sex and the neighbors heard them."

"Well, if you need an alibi that's certainly a good one to have." Lucifer points out, amused.

"This one," Gabby continues, pointing to the one on the right. "Was with his roommates at a local bar. Bartender confirms. And these two…" She points to the last two pictures. "Were actually in our holding cell on unrelated charges. Cocaine."

"Selling or snorting?" asks Lucifer.

"Does it matter?" Decker shakes his head. "Let's go over what we know again. Maybe we'll find something we didn't see before." He spins away from the projection screen to stare hard at the case files behind him. "We know the time of death was around 7 a.m.…"

Joy hurries over to the other side of the table to rifle through the other half of the paperwork. "Almost an hour after the diner opened." She notes. "She wasn't at work for long." She thinks out loud. "The killer had to know her schedule. Otherwise how would they know when she was working? Waitresses constantly rotate or change their hours. The killer had to have known ahead of time that she'd be there."

Decker nods, running his fingers down a list of names. "Yeah, and all her co-workers were accounted for. The diner has security cameras inside the building, but not the alleyway where she was killed."

Lucifer leans against the far wall, bored. "That's a shame. Otherwise we would have seen whoever killed the poor girl and would have found him by now."

Joy's head shoots up when a young voice pipes, "Did you check the security footage around the time she started work? Maybe she talked to someone suspicious before she went out to the alley."

They all turn to look at the girl standing in the doorway. She looks around ten or eleven, with thick, chocolatey hair framing a round face and hazel eyes. She's carrying a backpack that doubles as a stuffed animal tucked under one arm.

To Joy's consternation, the girl strides right past Lucifer and starts to go through the crime scene photos with authority.

"If she did talk to someone, you'll have to find evidence to see if they went into the kitchen for the knife." She says brazenly, tapping the photo of the murder weapon. "Otherwise, the tape is just circumcisi-al at best."

Decker huffs out a laugh. "I think you mean _circumstantial._" He angles his head towards Joy sheepishly. "She's right. We should check the tapes and see if Haley talked to anyone before heading out to the alley."

"I'll go get them." Gabby says brightly. "Nice work, Bella." She and the girl exchange a high-five as she walks out.

Lucifer pushes himself away from the wall and peers at the girl with wary interest. "What are you even doing here, you little deviant?" He asks. "Don't your parents have some sort of...I don't know, kennel or something they keep you at during the day?"

The girl-Bella-blinks at him, confused.

Decker smiles down at her. "I think he wants to know why you aren't in school, Monster." The way he says it makes the name sound more like a term of endearment than an insult.

Bella's sigh is full of exasperated disdain. "It's a half-day. Daddy's out of town, so Mommy brought me into work with her. I was on my way to the vending machine when I heard you guys talking in here." She points to the picture of Haley. "Is that the dead girl?"

Before any of them can answer, a pretty woman with Bella's dark hair appears in the doorway.

"There you are, Monkey." She exclaims in relief. "What have I told you about bothering your uncle while he's at work?" Her admonishment is ruined as she lovingly tucks a curl behind the girl's ear.

Uncle? Joy's eyes immediately jump to Lucifer.

"I was helping." Bella tells the woman, obviously her mother, insistently. "Uncle Sam, tell her I was helping you solve the case!"

Joy nearly spits out her coffee. While she had gathered this was yet another one of Decker's multiple family members, it had honestly never crossed her mind that he might have _siblings_.

"It was nice of you to help." The woman's eyes are lingering on the crime scene photos.

Decker notes where her gaze has fallen, and subtly arranges the pictures so that the ones of Haley's body are no longer visible.

"But I don't think you should be in here while the grown-ups are trying to work." She adds, with a grateful nod at Decker.

Older sister, Joy deduces, leaning back to watch this new episode of Decker Family Drama. It's hard to tell how much older because, like Decker, she has one of those faces that seems ageless. Dark hair is pulled back in a no-nonsense ponytail, highlighting bright, determined eyes. She's dressed simply but elegantly in cream-colored sweater and black slacks. Not a cop, Joy thinks. She doesn't have that vibe.

"Perhaps you should try putting her on a leash, Urchin." Lucifer chimes in. Like Decker, his use of the term is more affectionate than insulting. Like it's some sort of pet name. "I have a few you could borrow." He smiles at the woman coyly.

The woman just makes a face. "Why doesn't that surprise me?" She crosses her arms over her chest. "Sam talked you into consulting again?"

"Today's my first day back." He takes a black flask from his jacket pocket and frowns at it. "Did I leave my flask back at Eve's bar?" He asks no one in particular.

"Your first day?" The woman prompts when Lucifer just continues to examine the strange flask he pulled out of his pocket.

"Yes, and possibly my last." With a shrug, he takes a swig from the flask, apparently choosing not care where it came from. "I only agreed to help with this one case, and then it's back to retirement for me."

Joy raises her brow skeptically. Lucifer may be reminding everyone they meet that this is just a one-time deal, but from the note of uncertainty in his voice, it sounds like he may not entirely believe it anymore.

She glances at her partner and catches a satisfied smile before he quickly hides it.

"Hmm, is that so?" Joy's pretty sure that Bella's mother heard the hesitation too. She's a little too gleeful when she suggests, "Well, if you're not consulting, I guess that means you'd be available on school days. Dom and I have been looking for someone to watch Bella…"

"You know my feelings on children, Urchin." Lucifer glares at her.

Ignoring him, the woman grins down at her daughter. "What do you think, Monkey?" She asks Bella cheerfully. "Do you want to spend your afternoons at Lucifer's penthouse from now on?"

"Yeah that sounds great!"

"How dare you?' Lucifer sputters.

Joy can't quite manage to hide her snicker.

"Oh, sorry." Bella's mother turns away from Lucifer, who has shifted to a petulant silence, to study Joy. "You must be Sam's new partner, Detective Roberts." She holds out a hand over the table. "Beatrice Estevez-you can call me Trixie. Everyone does."

Joy returns the handshake and the smile. "Call me Joy. Nice to meet you."

Trixie lays a hand on Bella's shoulder. "And I think you met my daughter, Bella?"

"Yes, I did. Nice idea on the tapes." She tells Bella warmly. "You're going to make a good detective someday."

Bella's chin shoots up. "I want to be a lawyer, like my mom." She thinks for a moment. "Or a movie star like Grandma was."

Decker makes a pained sound in the back of his throat.

Trixie's eyes dance with mischief. "Sam doesn't like to remember that before she became a detective, our mother was a child actor." She says in a stage whisper to Joy. "Ever seen _Hot Tub High School_?"

"I have a copy you can borrow if you haven't." Lucifer offers generously. "It's a great movie, one of my favorites-"

"We're not talking about this anymore." Decker grinds out. He takes a breath, blows it out in a gush. "Trix is my older sister-"

"Half-sister." Lucifer interrupts, though teasing his son seems to have cheered him up. He is no longer glaring at Trixie and Bella. "I won't have you sharing genes with Daniel."

"Half-sister." Decker with an exasperated glance at his father. "She's also our ADA."

"You catch the bad guys, I lock'em up." Trixie adds. Bella wraps her arms around her mother's waist.

Joy shakes her head, amused. "Does your entire family work for the L.A.P.D.?" she asks Decker.

Trixie answers for him. "You don't know the half of it. Before my mom married Lucifer, she was married to another detective-Detective Daniel Espinoza. _My _dad." Her gaze flicks over to Lucifer. "He's retired now, too."

"How is Daniel?" Lucifer asks. "Is he still living down in San Diego?"

"Yeah, he's doing great. Dad says he loves the vibe down there. It's very laid-back." Trixie nudges her daughter. "We're going for a visit in a few weeks, aren't we, Monkey?" She glances up at her stepfather. "I don't suppose you want to join us?"

Lucifer makes a noise that Joy interprets as a _no_.

"We should get back to work." Decker reminds them. He starts to rearrange the notes on the table but Trixie lays a hand on his arm.

"Actually, Sam, since you're here, I was wondering if I could talk to you for a minute? Privately." She adds with a meaningful look at Lucifer.

"Sure. I'll be right back. Don't let Monster solve the case while I'm gone-it will just make us look bad." Decker tells Joy. He reaches into his jacket, pulls out a silver flask, and shoves it into his father's hands. "Here, Dad. This one is yours." He gives his niece's hair a playful tug on his way out.

"Stay here, Monkey." Trixie orders, and follows Decker out into the precinct.

Joy's not sure which is more alarming-being left alone with Lucifer, or the adolescent girl who is now observing her with a predatory gleam in her eye.

"You're Uncle Sam's new partner?" Bella climbs into one of the chairs and folds her arms in front of her.

"I am." Joy says. Beside her, Lucifer is pouring the contents of the black flask into his silver one and sampling the results.

"Are you married?"

"Nope."

"Any kids?" Joy sits down across from the girl, keenly aware that Lucifer has stopped what he was doing to listen in.

"None."

"Excellent decision, Miss Roberts." Lucifer interjects. "Children are truly detestable creatures. Not nearly worth the time it takes to make one...though that part can be enjoyable." He adds as an afterthought.

"So," Joy gives Lucifer a dirty look. "What grade are you in, Bella?" Hopefully the question will remind Lucifer that there are children in the room.

But Bella hasn't appeared to notice Lucifer's lewd remark. In fact, her eyes narrow and her tone shifts from curious to bossy. "I'm asking the questions."

Joy blinks. She doesn't have any siblings or cousins so her interactions with children has always been limited, but she would have expected a kid Bella's age to be a bit more cooperative when it came to dealing with adults.

Joy leans forward. "Actually, I'm the detective here, so I'm the one who's supposed to be asking the questions." She reminds the girl, keeping her voice stern. "Deal with it."

For a few minutes, she and Bella just stare at each other. Then Bella's face breaks into a grin.

"I like you." She announces.

Joy smiles. "Thanks. I like you too." She realizes that she truly does. The girl's natural curiosity and intelligence reminds Joy a bit of herself when she was young, though she doesn't remember being as outspoken as Bella is. Joy had spent most of her life having to adapt to unfamiliar situations, meaning that she learned to blend in as opposed to standing out. It was what had made her into such a good undercover cop.

Joy eyes Lucifer sidelong. But perhaps if she had to deal with someone like Lucifer while growing up, she would have been more straightforward too.

"Has Uncle Sam invited you to our thing on Sunday?" Bella asks her brightly. "If he hasn't, he should."

"What thing on Sunday?" Then, because she can't resist, "What, do you all go to church?"

Lucifer makes a gagging sound. Joy hides a smile.

"No, not church." Bella waves her hand dismissively. "Though if you ask her, Aunt Ella would probably take you. No, we go over to Aunt Linda's every Sunday for dinner." She ticks off the names on her fingers, "Uncle Charlie, Uncle Amenadiel, Aunt Ella, Aunt Gabby, Maze, Eve, me and my mom...we do it every Sunday. It's tradition."

"That's still happening, is it?" Lucifer asks. He sounds mildly surprised.

Bella nods enthusiastically. "It was Grandma Chloe's idea." She tells Joy. "She used to invite everyone over to her house, but after…" her eyes flick over to Lucifer in alarm, and she quickly adds, "now we just have it at Aunt Linda's house."

"Charlie's mother." Lucifer informs her, though she hadn't asked. "Also, my former therapist." He holds up his hands. "I know, I know, so L.A."

"It's really fun." Bella says, ignoring him. "Everyone brings something different to eat and we play games or watch movies."

"It does sound fun." Joy agrees. "But it sounds more like a family thing."

"Speaking of family," Lucifer's eyes narrow at door Decker and Trixie exited out of. "Wasn't there a case we were supposed to be working on? What the me is taking those two so long?" Without another word, he strides out of the room.

Bella watches him go. "Uncle Lucifer hasn't been to a family dinner since Grandma Chloe died." She tells Joy sadly.

Joy's heart aches. Lucifer's been so lost in his grief he truly can't see what a toll his absence has taken on the people around him.

She reaches out and touches Bella's hand. "When you lose someone you love, it can take a while before you're ready to do fun things again." She says gently. "You just have to give him some time."

Bella gives her a tremulous smile. "At least Uncle Sam has started going again. He didn't for a long while after Uncle Lucifer left. I bet he'd like it if you were there." She adds slyly.

Joy just shakes her head, though she can't help but smile at Bella's attempt at subtlety. "Why don't we wait and see what happens?" She says.

Bella looks like she's going to argue, but a uniformed officer Joy doesn't know taps lightly at the door frame. "Detective Roberts?"

"That's me."

"There's someone here who says he has to talk to you."


	6. Chapter Five: Two Faced

"How is he doing?"

Sam and Trixie have clustered themselves in a corner of the precinct where they were unlikely to be heard, but still had the conference room in view. Now his older sister crosses her arms over her chest, worry tightening her features.

Sam doesn't need to ask who "he" is.

"A little better as the day goes on." Sam rubs the back of his neck. "He's not quite as vehement about today being his last day as he was this morning, so there's progress."

Trixie lets out a relieved sigh. "That's good." She leans against the desk behind her and peers at him. "And how are you doing? You know you can always talk to me, if you need to."

Sam smiles. Sometimes Trix reminds him so much of their mother.

They were half-siblings, but that had never made a difference to either of them, nor did the twelve-year difference in their ages. It wasn't always easy for him growing up, his father being who he was, but he knew he could always count on Trix to have his back.

"All right, for the most part." His gaze flicks back to the conference room. "I thought I'd have to rein in my father all on my own, but it looks like I got a new partner to help pick up some of the slack."

Trixie's concerned expression relaxes into genuine amusement. "Yes, Charlie told me that he found you a partner." Her smile widens. "She's pretty."

"Don't you start." He warns, making her chuckle. "Is this all you wanted to talk about? If it is, I should really get back-"

"No, no." Trixie twists her fingers together anxiously. "Actually, I wanted to ask…" She glances back at the conference room again. "I just wondered if you've gone back up _there_, recently." She says in a low voice.

_Up there._ Meaning Heaven. "No. I honestly haven't, not since the last time. Between all the paperwork that needed to be done for Dad to come back and consult, not to mention my regular workload, there hasn't been much time for day trips." As Trix's face falls in disappointment, he silently curses the fact that he's the only member of his family who can visit Heaven whenever he wants.

His father's banishment from Heaven was restricted to only him, but while Sam is allowed to visit Heaven, he's only done so a handful of times since he got his wings as an adolescent. Partially because, as his father often liked to say, he found Heaven rather boring. But it had just never seemed fair to Sam that he was the only one in his family that could go. His mother and Trixie were human, and therefore were not allowed to see the Silver City until, as when his mother died, their souls were escorted there by the Angel of Death.

If he were to be honest with himself, another reason he rarely went to Heaven was because he never quite felt like he belonged there.

His cousin had it easy. Charlie was the son of Amenadiel, the Firstborn and one of God's most loyal soldiers. Amenadiel was a respected figure, admired by many of their celestial relatives, so of course his only son was always welcome in the Silver City.

Then there was Sam, the son of Lucifer. Even now, his father's rebellion is still a touchy subject among the residents of Heaven. While there was no doubt his father's brothers and sisters still care for him—most of them in a "you're my brother so I have to" sort of way-his infamy tended to make Sam's presence in Heaven awkward for everyone.

Sometimes being the son of the Devil sucked.

"Yeah, right, of course." Trix stammers now. She's trying for casual, but she's hugging herself in a way Sam recognizes.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing." She says quickly. "It's just...I miss her." Her eyes fill with tears. "It's been a year, but it's still hard."

Sam puts a gentle hand on his older sister's shoulder. "I know." He smiles. "I also know that she misses you like crazy."

Trix sniffles. "Really?"

"Of course. She didn't shut up about you and Bella the entire time I was up there." He shoves his hands in his pockets. "Then I got a lecture about why I shouldn't be calling my only niece a monster. Which she is." He grumbles. Truthfully, he adores Bella, but he'd never say as much out loud.

Trixie chuckles wetly. "Hey, I've called her that a time or two, myself." She wipes her eyes on her sleeve. "Do you think…" She shakes her head. "No, never mind. It's dumb."

"Probably." Sam's dry agreement makes her smile a little.

"I was wondering if, the next time you go, you could take a letter." She keeps her voice low. "I wrote one to her, a while back, and I thought that maybe you could…" She trails off, watching him hopefully.

Sam shifts from foot to foot, torn. Delivering a letter to their mother up in Heaven seems like a simple task, but it set a dangerous precedent. Communication between the living and the dead wasn't prohibited, that he knew of, but there was still a tiny chance that his paternal relatives might object.

He sighs. Well, he's gotten in trouble for worse. "I'm not making another visit for a few more weeks, but if you want to bring the letter over-" He breaks off when he sees her pull an envelope out of her pocket. "Or you can just give it to me now."

Trixie beams at him. "No rush. Thank you so much, Sammy." She gives him a hug, which he returns.

He leans back, preparing to give her grief for using that particular nickname- he had only allowed their mother to call him "Sammy" -when Trixie's letter is pulled from his grip.

"What's this all about?" To Sam's horror, his father is right behind him, scrutinizing the envelope with interest.

Trixie makes a noise that could either be a protest or a whimper. Sam himself is frozen in place as his father opens the envelope and pulls out the letter. His brow furrows as he starts to read.

Damn, damn, _damn_.

His father's face grows paler by the minute as he reads Trixie's letter to his late wife, and Sam is suddenly quite aware of how many humans surround them in the precinct.

"What is this?" His father's voice has deepened-not quite his Devil voice, but ominously close.

"It's just a letter for grief counseling." Trixie's voice is high and breathless. "I was just showing Sam-"

"It's a letter Trix wants me to deliver to Mom up in Heaven." Sam interrupts. Despite his internal panic, he manages to keep his voice steady. The time for lies has passed. "I was up there a few months ago, and I plan on taking a trip back to visit her in a few weeks."

He watches his father's mouth open and close as he fights to control his temper. "You...you went-"

"We should take this somewhere else." Sam looks pointedly over at all the people who have stopped in their tracks to watch this little drama.

"Sam, you don't have-"

Sam holds up a hand to stop his sister's protest. "It's fine, Trix." He turns back to stare hard at his father. "Interview room?" He doesn't wait for an answer, just brushes by. He can feel his father's furious gaze on that back of his neck as he stalks right behind him. Sam navigates through the precinct to the interview room farthest away from the main area. The one that is the most isolated, where they are less likely to be disturbed.

The door is barely closed when Sam is slammed into the wall, his father's hands clenched in his jacket.

"You went up to Heaven _without telling me_?" His father's voice has turned guttural, and glowing red eyes are inches from his own. Sam recognizes that he is no longer talking to his father, but the Devil. The King of Hell.

"And when was I supposed to tell you? It's not exactly like you were around." Sam's heart is pounding hard in his chest. A few years ago, he would never have entertained the thought of his father actually doing him physical harm. His father has an awful temper, but he would never hurt his own son.

But losing Sam's mother has changed a lot of things.

"You dare to lie to me?" His father presses him harder against the wall._ "_You of all people know what I do to liars."

"Throw me in Hell, then." Sam snaps back. He doesn't have a mirror, but he knows instinctively that his eyes are glowing red just like his father's. "After all, that's what Grandfather did to you when you pissed him off. Why not continue the tradition?"

His father reacts as if Sam has just plunged a knife into his chest. He releases his hold and stumbles back.

It kills Sam to see the gutted expression on his father's face-but he feels the tiniest bit of relief that his words have hit their mark. Sam's father has always maintained that he would never subject _his _son to the same punishment that had been inflicted upon him, no matter how much Sam ticked him off.

Sam only hopes that this reaction means his father has not backslid as much as he originally thought.

"I didn't lie to you, Dad." Sam says after a short pause. "I may not have told you about going to Heaven and visiting Mom, but I never lied to you."

His father doesn't appear to have heard him.

"When?" He demands. "When did you go and see…" He takes a shuddering breath. "When did you go to see her?"

"About a month after you disappeared." When his father's eyes glow red once again, Sam reminds him sharply, "I don't need your permission to see my mother. I would have told you sooner, but this reaction is exactly what we were trying to avoid."

"We?"

Sam eyes his father warily. "Me and Mom." He takes a deep breath and reluctantly adds, "It was Mom's idea for you to come back to work for the L.A.P.D."

His father's eyes are back to normal, but he's gripping one of the chairs hard enough to bend the metal. "You _manipulated _me. You tricked me into-"

"It wasn't manipulation, Dad!" Sam throws up his hands, exasperated. "I didn't tell you that this was Mom's idea because I knew it would upset you."

"Upset" is a bit of an understatement. The utter despair on his father's face rakes at Sam's heart. This was exactly why he had procrastinated in telling his father about his trip to Heaven.

His father had lost his first love, the first person to have given his life any meaning since he had been cast out. Now she was gone, and because of his immortality, his father was facing an eternity that was worse than any punishment he could have come up with in Hell.

"Why?" Sam can see his father trembling from where he stands. "Why did she want me to come back here?"

Sam considers taking a step closer to his father, but decides against it. "Because of what happened after she died. I told her how I spent two full days listening to you rant and rage against Grandfather. Two days listening to you curse him out for something he had no control over."

"No control?" The noise his father makes is a cross between a cry and a snarl. "_He took her from me_."

"She was sick, Dad. There was nothing any of us could have done."

"That's not true." His father's eyes have turned red again, but Sam doesn't think it is rage that has changed them this time. "He has the power to heal, He could have cured her."

"Even if He had healed her, how much longer would she have had? The average human lifespan is about eighty years, and Mom was only a few years short of that when she died."

"He could have made her immortal. He did it to Cain-"  
"As a punishment." Sam reminds his father harshly. "You know better than anyone how awful an existence like that is. Did you really want to spend the rest of your life watching her suffer as all the people she loved left her, one by one? Or worse, watch her turn into someone like Cain-so desperate to die that she abandons everything she ever stood for and becomes a killer herself?" he shakes his head. "I know you love her too much to put her through that."

Sam keeps his face impassive as his father takes the chair he's been crushing and throws it into the opposite wall. "You can't keep blaming Grandfather for Mom's death."

"He was the one who put her in my path to begin with. He put all of this in motion." His father's voice breaks. "But even then, He couldn't let me have more than a few decades of actual happiness before he took away the one piece of Heaven I was allowed to have." His father stares at the wall, his breathing ragged. "So yes, I can-and will-blame him."

"That's what Mom was worried about. And after you disappeared, I started to worry, too." Sam's gaze drops to the floor. "We were afraid that you were so furious with Grandfather that you might try to wage another war against Him-only this time, Grandfather would do something worse than just send you back to Hell."

After a long moment, long enough to make him sweat, his father says scornfully. "Well, you were worried for nothing. I have no intention of challenging my father again."

The tiny knot of dread that has been rooted in the back of Sam's mind for the past year finally loosens. His father had been so tormented by grief and bitterness when he left, Sam hadn't quite been able to shake the fear that he would do something reckless.

"That's good to hear." Sam acknowledges.

His father huffs, indignant. "Believe me, I have no desire to be blasted from existence...or whatever form of punishment my father likes to use nowadays." He crosses his arms over his chest. "So, what, this whole consulting job was a ploy to distract me?"

"Not exactly. Mom thought consulting would be a good first step."

His father glares at him. "A good first step towards what?"

"Towards getting you back to the person you were before Mom died."

"I haven't changed-"

"Yes, you have." Sam fights back a surge of anger. "You can keep pretending that you haven't, that everything is exactly the same, but it's not, Dad."

"Well, maybe not exactly the same," his father tries to reason, "but what's-"

"You haven't left the penthouse for half a year." Sam ticks off on his fingers. "You stopped caring about Lux. You no longer go to therapy. You barely talk to anyone in the family-Uncle, Aunt Linda, Maze, _me_. You've given up, Dad." Sam's voice breaks. "You've never given up on _anything_. But now that Mom's gone, it's like you just don't care."

"That's ridiculous." His father scoffs at him. "Just because I haven't been interested in socializing much lately hardly means I've given up. Whatever put that idea in your head?"

All the hurt, fear and anger Sam felt over the past year pours out of him in a gush.

"_You left me_!" He shouts. His father steps back, startled, but Sam can't stop, now. "You disappeared, Dad. My mother had just died and two days later you just took off without so much as a note. Do you have any idea how that felt? For six months I had no idea where you were. Six months-not a letter, a phone call, or an email. Six months of imagining the worst." Realizing that he's almost shouting, he takes care to lower his voice. "And then you come back and act as if nothing is wrong, after you had just cast me aside like I didn't matter."

Sam blinks hard, tears pricking at the corner of his eyes, his chest heaving.

For all of his life, Sam has had to put up with his father's incessant meddling. His father just loved prying into all the aspects of Sam's life; his romantic partners, his job, what he did in his spare time. It had both exasperated and frustrated Sam that no matter how many times he tried to set boundaries, his father just bullied his way past them. It had felt like no matter what he did, his father would always be there to pester him.

But then his father had run off without so much as a goodbye.

Sam had never really taken into account just how much he relied on his father's constant interference in his life. He had felt cut adrift, and for the first time, terribly alone.

Resentment bubbles up as he stares at his father, who has the gall to stand there looking utterly bewildered. Sam wonders if his father thought about him at all when he left-or if his mother had been the only person his father ever truly cared about.

Still caught in the memory of being abandoned, Sam says quietly, "I always used to think that there was nobody was past saving. Even the people I arrested, I thought if you could change, become a better person, then there was a chance they could too." He clenches his fists. "I guess I was wrong."

He regrets the words as soon as they're spoken. His father's face drains of color, and without another word, he strides past Sam to the door.

"Dad, wait-Dad!" Sam tries to call out. He nearly runs into Roberts as he flees the room, trying to catch up to him. To apologize, to argue, he has no idea.

It's too late. His father is gone.

Joy leaps back as her new partner nearly bowls her over coming out of the interview room where he and his father had been talking. Shouting, actually. She couldn't hear the words but she recognized the tone. And Lucifer had come barreling past her, an awful expression on his face. She didn't need a sign to tell her some harsh words have been exchanged between father and son.

Now Decker is standing in front of her, his eyes too bright as he peers past her down the hall.

Joy puts a gentle hand on his arm. He looks so lost. "Are you all right?"

For a moment he just stares, and she wonders if he even heard her.

Eventually, he shakes his head. "Fine. I'm fine." He tries to sound casual, but his voice is rough.

"Where's your dad going?"

He shrugs. "Who knows?" he responds gruffly. "Probably back to the penthouse."

"He's not consulting with us on the case anymore?"

Decker presses his mouth into a thin line. "No, I don't think so." He gives her a wan smile. "Remember what I said about family drama? This is just a small piece of it."

She puts as much confidence in her voice as she can. "I'm sure he'll come around." When he doesn't look convinced, she decides a change of subject is in order. "And I can't leave yet. We just got a break in the case."

That piques his interest. "One of Clive's associates has it in for him?"

"Better." She shows him the name on the file in her hand. His eyes widen.

"Clive has a _son_?"

"And he wants to talk to us." She tells him. "Alone."

Decker rolls his shoulders. "All right. Let's go talk to him." Without waiting for her, he hurries down the hall to the interview room where Clive's son is waiting.

Joy eyes her partner with some worry-he's clearly longing for a distraction from his father problems, but she doesn't think it will be that easy for him. She just hopes this interview doesn't make things worse between him and Lucifer.

Clive's son is a kid barely older than twenty. He doesn't resemble Clive in the looks department, with his fair hair and hazel eyes, but Joy is reminded of the ex-thief as the boy hunches over nervously in his seat, his eyes constantly darting over to the door as if eager to escape.

Decker sits across from him, leaving her the chair at the far end of the table.

"Hello...Todd." Decker glances quickly at the file she gave him. "You're Clive Fleming's son? Funny, he didn't mention you."

The boy's mouth turns down sullenly. "Yeah, he wouldn't mention me. He's never been much of a father. I was six when he was put in jail the first time. He probably feels ashamed of the way he treated me." The kid's tone makes it clear that he believes his father _should_ feel ashamed.

Like with Clive, Joy lets her sympathy show. "That must have been rough for you. Growing up without a dad."

To her consternation, this approach seems to just irritate the kid. "Growing up without him was better than growing up with him." Todd snaps at her. "Every time he came home, he promised that he'd change, but he never did. He'd always get himself thrown in jail again, and miss another couple of years of my life. He's nothing but a two-faced liar." His voice shakes with anger.

Decker tilts his head. "So why come in, Todd? I'm guessing you didn't come in to prove his innocence." His cool, detached tone seems to work better on Clive's son than Joy's attempts to connect with him. Todd narrows his focus on Decker.

"No, I'm coming in to tell you it was him. My dad was the one who killed Haley."

"Haley was your cousin." Decker clarifies, watching the boy closely.

"Yeah, my cousin." The boy shrugs carelessly. "We didn't really talk much-our dads didn't get along, so we almost never saw each other."

"It must have been upsetting for you when she offered to take your father in, and helped him get a job." Joy mentions. The kid's answers bother her-he doesn't seem to care at all that Haley is dead. She glances over at her partner, but it's hard to tell from his indifferent expression what he's thinking.

"Yeah, it was. Because she doesn't know him like I do." Todd adds hurriedly. "I knew he was going to go back to his old ways, just like he always does."

"You don't think your father can change?" Decker's voice is strained. "You don't believe he can be a better person?"

Joy looks at Decker in concern, but his attention is all for the young man sitting across from them.

"No, and I tried to tell Haley that! I told her he'll just screw up, like he always does." Todd leans towards them, imploring. "She didn't believe me, but you have to. I know he killed her."

"How do you know that, Todd?" Joy asks when Decker just stares at the kid. "Did he tell you something to make you suspect him?"

Todd lets out a strangled laugh. "Are you kidding? He hasn't talked to me once since he got out. No, but it's pretty obvious it was him. I mean, his fingerprints were on the weapon, right?"

Warning bells go off in Joy's head. She exchanges a look with Decker. "How do you know his prints were on the murder weapon?"

Todd blinks at them. "You took him into custody, so I just thought...it has to be him. He obviously heard about my talk with Haley."

"So he killed her?" Decker raises his brows. "Why?"

"I don't know, maybe she was starting to doubt him after all and he got pissed. Why does that matter?" Todd demands. "Look, I'm telling you it was him."

"We need more evidence than that, Todd." Decker explains. "Your father is claiming that he's innocent, and with only the knife...it's circumstantial at best. We need more."

Todd studies them for a long time. "Do you need a confession?"

"That would certainly help." Decker leans back in his chair. "Between the confession and the knife, we might be able to get an arrest to stick." He sighs gustily. "But I'm afraid we just released your father a while ago. No telling where he's gone."

Joy gives her partner a sharp look. She's pretty sure she knows what he's trying to do, but it's a risky move.

Todd licks his lips anxiously. "Yeah, you're right. He could be anywhere by now." His eyes slide to the door. "Um, well, I just came in to tell you about my talk with Haley, and to let you know what I thought."

Decker gives the boy a cool smile. "We appreciate it."

"Ok. Well, I'll be going now."

Joy chimes in before the boy can scamper off, "Why don't we find someone to take you home? I'm sure we can-"

"No, no." Todd seems positively terrified by the suggestion. "I'll be fine. Thanks anyway." He practically runs out the door.

Joy waits a few beats before turning to her partner. "Was I the only one who thought it was odd that he knew so much about the case?"

Decker's smile is more authentic now that Clive's son has left. "Nope. He sounded pretty bitter about all that stuff with his dad, too." Emotion flickers across Decker's face before he quickly hides it from her. "I think we might know who really killed Haley."

"You want him to go after Clive." She states as they exit the room.

"Yes. He wasn't ever going to confess, and we don't have the evidence to arrest him. We need him to think his father's off the hook, enough that he'll want to confront him." Decker leads her back to Gabby's lab. "He'll try and force Clive to come in and confess to killing Haley."

She frowns. "Is that a good idea? What if he kills Clive?"

Decker shakes his head. "Killing his father would be too quick. He wants his father to suffer. What better way than to send the man to prison for a crime that he committed?"

"You think that he wants to send his own father back to prison?" Joy asks. She's rather taken aback that the kid would hate his father that much.

"As far as he's concerned, Clive has never done anything for him." Decker answers brusquely. Decker turns to Gabby. "Hey, did you ever find out who talked to Haley before she went out into the alley?"

Gabby looks up from her computer. "Yeah, and you'll never guess who it-"

"Todd Fleming." Joy and Decker answer in unison.

"Oh...you guessed."

Decker turns to her. "So, Todd goes in to try and convince Haley that his father's no good…"

"And she doesn't believe him." Joy continues the scenario. "Todd convinces her to go out into the alley-I don't know, maybe he tells her they shouldn't be arguing in the middle of the diner. He stabs her with a knife-"

"Maybe he took the first knife as some sort of trophy." Decker eyes the murder weapon they have on the table.

"Or he was too enraged to think about his own finger prints on the knife until after she was dead." Joy taps the table in thought. "He knew his father worked at the diner, knew at least one of the knives would have his prints on them. He takes the one he used with him, and leaves the other knife for us to find."

"He would have had to have worn gloves. That's a lot of work if he was in a rage when he killed her." Gabby points out, brow furrowed.

Decker frowns thoughtfully. "I think we got our theories mixed up. Todd didn't kill Haley because he was angry with her-he wanted to kill her so he could frame his dad for it." His eyes are distant as he says. "Punishment for a father who let him down."

Disquiet ripples down Joy's spine. She and Gabby exchange troubled expressions before the forensic scientist turns back to her computer.

"Fleming was released on his own recognizance a few hours ago." She says, her voice is just a little too breezy to be genuine. "I can track him using his phone's GPS, but it might take a while."

To Joy's immense relief, Decker has managed to shake off his unsettling behavior. "Let us know as soon as you find him, Gabby." He turns to Joy. "Todd desperately wants his dad to know just how messed up his life has been all because of Clive. In his mind, his father was the one who made him a killer." Something dangerous flashes in Decker's eyes. "Once he tracks Clive down, all that resentment and rage is going to need an outlet."

"Which means he'll want to brag to Clive about how he killed Haley." Joy agrees. Her fingers tap out a few notes on her thigh. "Can you text me when you find him?" She asks her partner. "There's something I want to do really quick." She hopes he doesn't ask her why, because she doesn't have an explanation prepared.

Thankfully, Decker just shrugs. "Sure. Go on. I'll text you when we have the details."

Joy flashes him a grateful smile and hurries out of the room. She just hopes that Decker is right, and Lucifer really has returned to the penthouse.

She finds Lux more crowded than it had been a few hours ago. Joy glances at her phone and realizes that it's because the day is half over. They only have a few more hours of daylight left to track down Clive and Todd.

The place isn't quite bustling yet, but Joy still has to maneuver her way through a throng of people to get to the bar. She had hoped to ask whoever was tending it if they had seen Lucifer, but is surprised when she spots him seated in the far corner, rolling a glass of whiskey between his hands. He doesn't seem to care about or notice the group of attractive women clustered close by, gossiping among themselves while simultaneously shooting him covert, admiring glances.

He does, however, notice Joy when she sidles up next to him.

"Miss Roberts. Am I to assume you being here means that you have found your killer, and are here to celebrate with a drink?" He drawls, summoning over the bartender.

Joy notes with some amusement that even the men Lucifer hires to run his bar are unnaturally good-looking. She waves the man away as she sits down on Lucifer's right. "Not yet. We're pretty sure it's Clive's son who murdered Haley, but we haven't got enough evidence to charge him."

Lucifer's expression freezes. "You think his son is the murderer?"

Joy is watching Lucifer's reactions closely. "Actually, we think the kid murdered his own cousin so he could pin it on Clive. As a way to punish him for letting him down for most of his life."

She finds it interesting that Lucifer winces as if she had come out and accused him of the same crime.

Lucifer tries to mask his discomfort by taking a sip from his glass. "Well," he says after a moment. "It sounds as if the two of you have everything in hand. Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I'll return to my retirement."

She doesn't let him off the hook that easily. "Actually, we might still need your help. Because of all the evidence pointing towards Clive, we're going to need a confession if we're going to arrest his son for the murder. Which means we're probably going to need your...erm...interrogation techniques." She frowns at him. "How exactly did you get Clive to spill the way he did?"

Lucifer smiles a little. "Humans always feel the need to tell me their deepest, darkest desires. Sometimes I don't even need to ask." He looks at her pointedly, and she remembers the strange, inexplicable urge that she had felt earlier in the day. "The only one it didn't work on was my wife. But...she was special." Sorrow etches in the lines of Lucifer's face, and he stares bleakly into his glass.

Joy doesn't give him long to wallow.

"Yeah, I think I got firsthand experience this morning when I played your piano without asking." She gives him a self-conscious smile.

To her surprise, he returns it. "You do play very well." He admits. She has a feeling that from him this is a major compliment. "Not as good as me, of course."

She bites back a chuckle. "Of course." She tilts her head. "Though it's weird. There's a piano right over there," she motions to it, "and I don't have any sudden urge to play."

Lucifer grabs a nearby bottle and pours himself another drink. "I promised my son I wouldn't use my talents on you." He says, not looking at her. "I am a devil of my word."

She sighs in resignation. The whole Devil persona is getting old, but it seems to be Lucifer's defense mechanism. She doesn't want to make things worse for either him or Decker by dousing him with a cold bucket of reality.

But Lucifer doesn't let it go. "You don't believe me."

She looks at him, and decides he's stable enough to hear the truth. "No, I don't. I'm not saying you're lying, because it's clear that _you _believe you are the Devil. But aside from some odd behavior, you haven't given me any proof." She folds her arms on the bar top.

"Oh, I have proof." Lucifer tells her dismissively.

She blinks at him. That wasn't the answer she had been expecting. "You do?"

"Of course. My Devil face."

She frowns. "Isn't that it?" She gestures to his normal, albeit handsome, face.

Lucifer snorts in exasperation. "No, my _Devil _face. The face I wore while I ruled Hell. The face that terrified even the vilest of humanity's sinners." His gaze narrows in on her hands, and his voice warms with amusement. "Nervous, are we?"

She glances down and sees her hands are tapping out a song on the bar. With a sigh, she tucks them in her lap. "Ok, fine. Prove it." She challenges. "Show me your Devil face."

He studies her for a long moment. "No. I don't believe I will." He says slowly.

"Why not?"

Lucifer finishes off his drink. "I've shown my real face to only a few humans. I've learned that it can take some time to process, and can take even longer to fully accept." He angles his head towards her. "Sam likes you."

Joy blinks at the non-sequitur. "I like him too." She's a little surprised to find that she means it.

Lucifer nods, as if he hadn't expected otherwise. "I don't care what people think of me. There was only one person whose acceptance ever mattered. It took some time, but she gave me everything I needed and more. More than I probably deserved." He adds with a soft smile. "But before that, I had to go through a great deal of torment. I thought myself a monster, and that kind of suffering..." His expression darkens. "I don't want my son to ever have to go through that."

She suppresses an exultant smile. She had been worried after Lucifer stormed out of the precinct that the troubles between the two men would be too big to fix. But she needn't have worried-it's clear that Lucifer still cares deeply about his son.

"You're worried that if you show me your...Devil face," she wrinkles her nose to let him see just how weird she thinks this all is, "then I won't want to be his partner anymore. That I'll be too afraid of you to work with him. And that will hurt him."

Lucifer doesn't respond, but he doesn't have to. She taps her fingers thoughtfully on the bar.

"I don't want to hurt my partner either." She tells him. "So I won't make you show me your Devil face, or have you...hypnotize me, or whatever it is you do." She leans towards him. "But I am going to tell you what it is I desire."

Lucifer straightens up in his seat. She's got his full attention, now.

She leans closer, like she's about to reveal a huge secret. And she is, sort of.

"I want what your son has."

Lucifer stares at her, nonplussed. "What are you talking about?"

She licks her lips nervously. "My mom was a concert pianist." She starts. "She's the one who taught me how to play the piano. My dad worked at the local bank. Two good, regular people living in a normal suburban neighborhood. Nothing special. Except that they died when I was twelve." Before she can embarrass herself again, she curls her hands in her lap. "They were killed in a home invasion gone bad. I survived because I was at a friend's house that night. When I got home the next morning…" She takes a shaky breath. She almost never talks about this. It is in her personnel file, but she hadn't even told her old team in Narcotics about this part of her past.

"My parents were only children, and both sets of grandparents had passed away a long time ago, so I was put in the foster care system until I aged out at eighteen. I had about nine different homes during that time. Most of them were fine. But each time I moved, I had to get used to a different home, different rules, new foster parents, siblings. Change became my new normal, so even when I was old enough to be on my own, I kept moving around. I trained at the police academy in Ohio, but left after a year and moved to Chicago. Then Kansas City. Eventually, I made it all the way here to L.A." She smiles at him sadly. "I've lived in L.A for about two years, the longest I've lived anywhere since my parents died."

Since it looks like Lucifer has been rendered speechless, she plows on.

"I've never had what he has... what you have. Being surrounded by people who care about you. You both have this huge, extended family to watch your back, and even though I think that family is incredibly strange and more than a bit dysfunctional, I kind of wish that I could have the same. I even wish-on some level-that I had a father like you. Well, maybe not _exactly _like you." She admits as an afterthought. Lucifer's mouth twitches as he fights back a smile. "But it's pretty obvious that, in spite of all your weirdness, Sam really loves you. You're his hero, Lucifer."

Lucifer's gaze falls to his drink. "Yes, well, I don't think he would agree with you at the moment."

She watches him take a sip from his glass. "I'm far from an expert. But I'm pretty sure fathers and sons fight."

He shoots her a meaningful look. "Oh, they do. And I know firsthand how damaging those fights can be." Bitterness washes over his features. "Sometimes to the point where it becomes too broken to fix."

She stares at him. "If I could, I would take a dozen fights with my father over not having one at all." She tells him tartly. "Whatever problems you and Sam have can be fixed, Lucifer. You both just need to start looking past your own hurt to see it."

She shoves away from the bar, intending to storm out, but Lucifer's voice stops her.

"What happened to them?"

She spins around. "To who?"

"The vile creatures who killed your parents." His voice is dangerously calm, and she gets an unexpected shiver over the nape of her neck under his intense gaze.

"They were caught and arrested." She had watched the news coverage of the trial after her foster parents had gone to bed. Even now, decades later, she can remember the faces of her parents' killers with chilling clarity. "One died in a prison riot. The other died peacefully," she snarls the word. "In his cell two years ago."

"They're dead?"

"Yes."

"Good."

She frowns, puzzled by the note of satisfaction in his voice. Before she can figure out why he would care about the deaths of two men he had never met, her phone pings in her jacket pocket. She pulls it out to see a text message from Decker.

_Got him. _

She looks up at Lucifer. "I have to go. We just found Haley's killer."

She doesn't wait for his reply, but she can feel his eyes boring into her back as she rushes out of the club.


	7. Chapter Six: Like Father, Like Son

She meets Decker at the intersection just before one of the local container ports. "Our guy is here?" She asks, peering at the labyrinth of cargo containers stacked on top of one another. This late in the day the port is empty, with only the sound of waves and gulls hanging in the air. "How are we going to find him?"

Decker's eyes are eager, his body practically trembling with adrenaline. He reminds her of a bloodhound on the scent. "Gabby pegged his signal coming from over there." He points to the right. "She couldn't get any closer than that. We're going to have to go in carefully." He takes his gun out of the holster on his belt.

She does the same. "You go first. I'll watch your back."

He gives her a quick, grateful smile, and together they make their way through the maze of containers. She listens hard for any sound, any movement that might give them an idea of where Clive might be.

Why on earth, she thinks to herself, would Clive come here of all places? He couldn't go back home but surely he had contacted Vinny when he left the precinct.

Decker turns the corner just ahead, Joy following close behind. The containers are piled high around them, making her a tad claustrophobic.

Decker angles his head to glance back at her with a bemused expression. "Why here?" He echoes her earlier question, almost as if talking to himself. "What's so important that he had to come to the docks?"

Before she can respond, they hear the sharp crack of a gunshot. Decker takes off, Joy not far behind. Her heart is hammering. She only hopes they aren't too late-

She almost collides into Decker as he halts abruptly just around the corner. Todd Fleming is standing a few feet in front of them, gun pointed at his father's chest.

"Easy, Todd. Easy." Decker says. He keeps his gun trained on the kid, but his voice is low, soothing. "Let's not do anything foolish, now."

Joy shifts so she is on Decker's right, her own gun raised. Todd's eyes are wide in his face, darting back and forth between the two of them. He's pale, shaking, and Joy feels a quick tug of pity. He looks so young and terrified.

"Todd, put the gun down, now." Like her partner, Joy keeps her voice calm, so as not to startle the kid into doing something he might regret. "It's all right."

"You said you needed a confession to put him away, right?" Todd asks, his voice high with anxiety. "Well, he's going to confess now. Aren't you?" He pushes the gun closer to Clive's face.

For his part, Clive simply looks resigned. His attention is focused, not on the gun only a few inches from his nose, but on his son. "Yeah. Yeah, it was me. I killed Haley."

"There, you see?" Todd glances at them frantically. "He did it. It was his fault, like it always is."

A muscle jumps in Decker's jaw. "I heard him, Todd. But it's a lie, isn't it? You killed Haley."

"What?" Todd's breathing is coming out in shallow, harsh gasps. "No, I tried to warn her! He's a bad guy, he'll always be-"

"People can change, Todd." Decker reminds the younger man gently. "It may take a long time, but it does happen." His gaze flicks over to Joy, a message she understands. He'll keep the kid talking while she subtly moves into a better position. "I know it probably wasn't easy growing up with your dad."

Todd lets out a high shriek of laughter. "Easy? Of course it was easy. He was never around!" He jabs the gun in Clive's face, and Joy and Decker's hands jerk on their own guns.

But the kid is too busy berating his father. "Every time I thought you had it together, you messed it up." He tells Clive in a trembling voice. "You kept telling me that you'd change, that you would become a better person, but _you never did. _You never cared about me."

"That's not true." Joy has no idea how Clive manages to sound calm with a gun pointed right between his eyes, but he does. "You're my son. I love you. That's why I didn't call you when I got out of prison this time. I'd been a screw-up for most of your life. I thought you would be better off without me."

"But you called Haley." Todd grinds out. "You called her the day you got out. I didn't even know you had been released until Mom told me a few days ago. She wouldn't tell me where you were, that's why-"

"That's why you went and talked to Haley." Decker finishes for him. "You wanted to know where your dad was."

"And to warn her." Todd snaps back. "But she wouldn't listen to me." He turns back to Clive. "She kept saying you changed, that she was going to help you...as if she had any idea. She's not your kid. She didn't have a clue. She said I should be proud of you for trying so hard." Todd lets out caustic bark of laughter. "I should be proud of you. Like a few weeks of being a decent human being makes up for the years that you missed out on because you are more interested in being a thief than a father."

"You're angry." Decker surmises. "But not because Haley didn't believe you, but because your dad was willing to change for her, and not for you."

Joy eyes her partner. She knows he's playing up his sympathy to keep the kid from shooting Clive, but she doesn't think it's entirely feigned.

"He wasn't there for you when you needed him. That's why you killed Haley in that alley, and why you planted a knife with your father's fingerprints. You wanted to punish him for being a crappy father."

Todd's eyes are bright with malice. "She kept yammering on and on about how good he had been, how he was coming in early, working late shifts...like that makes up for abandoning me for most of my childhood. I was so sick of it. I convinced her to go out to the alley with me, just to talk. On the way out of the kitchen, I grabbed one of the knives from the counter."

"And killed her." Decker continues, his eyes never leaving Todd's face. Joy shifts over a little more. She's almost right behind the kid-a few more steps and she can shoot Todd without causing a fatality.

"She died pretty quick." Todd is telling her partner with relish. Joy feels a wave of revulsion sweep over her. "It was then that I had the idea of blaming it on my dad." He shoots his father a venomous look. "I snuck back into the kitchen and grabbed a similar knife, using a towel to keep it from getting my fingerprints. I stabbed her a few more times, just to make it more confusing. I left that knife at the scene. I hid the one I used here on my way home." Todd turns back to his father. "I knew that you would be blamed for her murder, and that the evidence would put you away for good, this time. I thought," Todd's voice cracks. "It would be enough so I wouldn't ever have to see you again."

Decker shakes his head. "Todd, I get it. My dad hasn't always been there for me, either. It sucks, to feel like you've been abandoned." His voice wavers a little. "But even if he deserves to be punished for it, was it really worth taking your cousin's life?"

"I didn't have a choice!"

"Yes, you did." Decker tells the kid firmly. "We all have choices, Todd. Believe me. You chose to kill your cousin. You chose to pin it on your father. And you chose to track him down with a gun, to force a false confession out of him." He sighs, as if Todd has somehow disappointed him. "Those are a lot of bad choices, Todd. But you can make one good one. Put the gun down, now." He motions to the gun in Todd's hand. "Put it down, and we'll go back to the station and clear this thing up."

For a minute, Joy thinks that Todd is going to do what Decker says. He stares at Decker, dazed, the gun drifting slowly to the ground. Joy relaxes her grip on her own gun a fraction. Perhaps they will all get out of this-

Todd yanks the gun back up with a speed she didn't expect him to have. Only instead of pointing it at his father, he's pointed it at Decker.

As the kid pulls the trigger, Joy doesn't think, just reacts. There's a blinding bolt of pain in her chest, right above her heart, as she jumps in front of Decker. She barely hears Decker's panicked shout as she falls to the ground, her vision blurring.

More gunshots. A cry of pain. A terrified scream.

Joy lays on the ground, focusing on breathing through the pain. Her vision has gone dark, but not so dark that she can't see Decker's white face above hers.

"Joy? Joy, stay with me." He commands.

She's not sure she's going to be able to do that. The pain has spread from her shoulder, to her lungs, and it's getting harder and harder to stay awake.

"I...I don't want to die." She breathes.

Decker's blue-grey eyes bore into hers. "You're not going to die." He promises. "My father and I won't let you. No, Grandfather is just going to have to wait."

Decker turns his face away from her to talk to someone out of her line of vision. She gets one last, blinding jolt of pain before the darkness washes over her, and she passes out.

If Sam had the ability to slow time like his uncle, he would have used it the minute Joy got shot trying to protect him.

Fury he rarely experiences turns his vision red-and from the way Todd's eyes widen, he has a feeling that it is literal as well as figurative. It takes effort, but instead of shooting the kid in the heart he aims for the leg, and Todd falls to the ground with a cry of pain.

As far as Sam's concerned, the kid can cry all he wants. He's more worried about Joy. Immediately he crouches down next to her, using his radio to summon back-up and an ambulance.

"Joy? Joy, stay with me." He says breathlessly. He puts pressure on the wound on her chest. He has a small amount of medical training, courtesy of his Aunt Linda, who had gotten tired of being the only "doctor" in the family. He wings a quick prayer up to his Grandfather that Joy can make it long enough for the ambulance to get here.

He totally forgot about Clive.

There's a pain in his shoulder, and Sam lets out a vicious swear as the bullet buries itself in his upper arm. He glances up to see Clive pointing the gun at him.

"I can't let you put my son in jail." says the ex-thief thickly. "This is all my fault."

"No arguments here." Sam blinks up at the barrel of the gun.

"I was a lousy father. If I had been better...maybe Haley would still be alive." Clive sucks in a breath. "This...this is the one thing I can do to make things right." He points the gun right between Sam's eyes.

He pulls the trigger, but in a heartbeat, a man appears between Sam and Clive. The bullet doesn't seem to faze him as he grabs the gun from Clive's hand and uses it to smack the ex-con across the face.

Sam's father grabs Clive by the shirt and throws him, hard, into one of the containers. Clive's face drains of color, and Sam doesn't need to hear his scream to know his father has given him a peek at his Devil face.

His father gives Clive another hard push against the wall, knocking the other man out. He glances over at Todd, but Todd hasn't moved. He just holds his hurt leg, staring at Sam's father with utter horror.

Sam turns his attention back to Joy. Despite his confident words, he feels a thrill of terror when he notices the amount of blood, how pale and clammy her skin has become.

"How is she?" His father crouches next to him.

"Not good." He answers. "An ambulance is on the way, but I don't think they'll get here in time. They have to drive through this damn maze of containers." He inadvertently presses harder on her wound, and she whimpers. He shoots his father a look of pure panic.

His father's gaze has narrowed in on his arm. "You're hurt?"

Sam had barely noticed, but now that his father has mentioned it, he feels the white-hot blaze of pain in his right bicep. "It will heal soon enough."

Being half-angel had its advantages. He wasn't completely invulnerable, but he healed quicker than the average human. As long as he got the bullet out within the next hour or so, he would probably only have a bruise by later tonight.

"Do you feel well enough to fly?" His father asks in an undertone.

Sam rolls his shoulder experimentally, and winces. "I could probably do it, so long as it wasn't a long trip. What are you thinking?"

His father peers down at Joy, a strangely tender expression on his face. "Flying her to the hospital will be quicker than waiting for the ambulance."

Sam doesn't bother to think about it, just gathers Joy in his arms as gently as possible. "What about them?" He jerks his head towards the unconscious Clive and the currently sobbing Todd. "They need to be brought in, processed…and the knife Todd used to kill Haley is around here, somewhere."

His father waves a hand at him. "I'll deal with that and wait with them until the back-up you summoned gets here." His eyes flash as he looks over at Todd. "I'll make sure this one gets the proper punishment for his crime."

Figures that his father had shown up in time to hear Todd's confession.

Sam gets to his feet, clutching Joy in his arms. "Thanks, Dad." Then, on impulse, "I'll stop by the penthouse tonight. There's some things we need to talk about."

Worry-and a little guilt-dances across his father's face. "Yes, we do. But it can wait. Now, go." He makes a shooing motion.

Sam lets out a breath, allowing his wings to unfurl just as the last of the air leaves his lungs. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Todd's eyes widen in awe.

His wings are spectacular, he thinks with no small sense of vanity. Like his father's they are a brilliant white, though while his father's are white all over, Sam's are edged in black along the edges, like they had been outlined in charcoal.

But most importantly, they are a fast mode of transportation. He gives his father a quick nod before shooting off into the sky.

Joy wakes up to the sounds of beeping and the sterile smell of the hospital. When he sees her eyes open, Decker's mouth slowly curves into a smile.

"Well, look who's back."

Joy blinks, trying to gauge the amount of time she has been unconscious. "How long have I been out?" Her voice is raspy. It feels as if she hasn't had anything to drink for days.

Decker clicks his tongue against his teeth. "About three hours, give or take." He nods to the gauze pad wrapped over her chest. "You were lucky. The bullet didn't hit any major organs, so it didn't take long to stitch you up. You'll be out of here in no time." He studies her, an inscrutable expression on his face. "You jumped in front of a bullet for me."

"Of course I did." She says matter-of-factly. "You're my partner."

Appreciation mixed with bemusement fills his blue-grey eyes.

She carefully pushes herself into a sitting position, hissing through her teeth. She might be on pain relievers, but it is damn hard to tell. Decker helpfully hands her a plastic cup filled with water and she gulps it down.

When it no longer feels like her mouth is filled with cotton, she asks, "What about Todd, and Clive?"

"Both in custody. I already got a call from my sister saying that Todd confessed to Haley's murder. He'll get to enjoy plenty of father-son bonding time with Clive in prison."

She looks at him blankly. "I thought Clive didn't kill Haley?"

"He didn't. But shooting a cop is still a felony." When she just looks at him blankly, he points to his right arm.

"Clive shot you?" She asks doubtfully. He looks just as fresh and healthy as he had this morning.

"Fast healing is one of the fringe benefits to being half an angel. Now that I've dug the bullet out, I won't have so much as a bruise tomorrow morning." He tells her, a little smugly.

She shakes her head. "You're just messing with me because I'm on morphine." She complains.

He grins. "Believe what you want." His expression turns serious. "Funny thing happened while you were passed out. I called the precinct to track down your emergency contacts. Turns out, you don't have any." He tilts his head. "When I called Charlie to ask why the hell that was, he told me what happened to your parents. Why didn't you say anything?"

"I don't like to talk about it." She shrugs and immediately regrets the action.

"I get that, but I wish you had told me. I wouldn't have dreamed of dragging you into all my family drama, had I known." He leans forward and folds his arms over the bed rails. "I'm sorry."

She studies him for a long moment. Most people, when they hear about her parents, say they're sorry, as an automatic response. Something to fill the awkward silence after learning the truth. Few know what it's like to lose one parent, let alone two.

But she suspects that Decker understands the feeling better than most.

Her mouth tilts up in a smile.

"It's all right. In a weird way, I liked being dragged into your family drama." She ducks her head. "That's probably why I went looking for your dad after the two of you fought."

He looks surprised. "You did?"

"I didn't mean to intrude." she rushes on before he can say anything else. "Whatever the problem is, it's between you and your dad. But you both seemed pretty miserable, so I thought maybe if I talked to him, he might at least come around long enough to help us with the case." She snorts. "I don't think I made much of a difference."

Decker smiles. "Oh, I think you made quite an impression." He leans back in his chair, eyes dancing. She's not sure what's so funny. "Well, drama or no, it seems you are now an honorary member of the family. I have been no less than commanded to invite you to dinner at my Aunt Linda's Sunday night-if you're feeling up to it." He adds quickly, his gaze flicking to her shoulder.

Joy, touched that they would include her in a traditional family event, gives him a brilliant smile. "Really? I'd love to."

His smile is affectionate. "I got you something." He reaches down to grab a bag next to his chair. "As a thank you." He tosses the bag on the bed.

Ridiculously pleased, she untangles the hardcover book and reads the title out loud. "The Divine Justice Series." Puzzled, she reads the back cover. "Angel Oriel and her demon friend Zagan travel to Deadwood, South Dakota and find themselves embroiled in a murder." She glances up at Decker. "No way this is real."

"Oh, it is" Sam replies, a little too gleefully. "Part of a series, as a matter of fact. They're some of my favorite reads."

"Because it was written by a family member?" She points to the main character depicted on the cover who, she thinks privately, is rather scantily clad for an angel.

"No, and as far as I know my father doesn't even have a sister named Oriel. There is a demon named Zagan, but I'm pretty sure he can't read, so that's probably just a coincidence." Decker taps the book. "Most of the Heaven and Hell stuff is wildly inaccurate, and the mysteries are pretty easy to solve once you know the formula."

"Then why read them?" She asks, turning the book over in her hands.

"Because," His expression fills with mischievous delight, "they drive my father crazy."

"Why?"

"In the books the Devil is depicted as this ex-angel who was sent to Earth by God to weed out the unrighteous. The character follows all of God's orders like a well-trained soldier and it makes my father _furious_ to be so badly misrepresented." Decker snickers.

Her mouth twitches in an effort not to smile. "Do you read them just to annoy your dad?"

"Well, there's lots of violence and sex scenes in them, too." He admits. He leans back in his chair. "I used to hide copies around the penthouse whenever Dad annoyed me." Decker's eyes twinkle at the memory. "Under the couch cushions, behind the bar, anyplace he'd stumble onto them accidentally. I even hid one inside his piano. Drove him mad."

Joy grins. "He never figured out it was you?"

Decker holds up a finger. "Ah, there's the tricky part." He says cheerfully. "I never lie to my father, so I had to enlist outside help. I would give them the book and the hiding spot, and they would plant it. That way, when my father finally came across the book, I could say," He makes an expression that he probably thinks is innocent, "'I never hid the book there, Father'. And it would be the truth. Usually it was Maze, or my uncle Amenadiel-Charlie's father, you'll meet him Sunday-who hid the book." He grins at her proudly. "I even got my mother to hide a copy one time."

Joy studies her partner. There is something different about him. It occurs to her that she hasn't seen this version of him yet-fun-loving, mischievous, a bit of a troublemaker.

He seems lighter, somehow. She has a feeling that because of his mother's death and his father's subsequent disappearance he's had too much grief to deal with. He couldn't allow himself a chance to relax and have fun.

She wonders if maybe that was why Lieutenant Martin made them partners-maybe he hoped that she could alleviate some of that burden.

She squirms a little, not sure how to feel about that.

"Well, thanks for the book, Decker." She says, putting it to one side. She's a little curious to read it, if only to see why Lucifer of all people finds it so objectionable.

Decker gives her an exasperated look. "I should think, after what we went through today, we're on a first name basis now. Call me Sam."

"Well, then I guess you can call me Joy." She says. "You don't have to stay, you know. I'll be alright by myself."

"Oh, you're not going to be on your own tonight." He tells her. "I texted Gabby when it looked when you were waking up. She's already on her way here. Trix says she's also going to stop by with Bella, and Charlie will probably stop in…"

"Seriously?" After so many years on her own, the idea of that many people coming to check on her is a bit overwhelming.

Sam's smile turns significantly eviler. "Wishing you were still unconscious, aren't you?"

She huffs out a laugh. "You're an ass."

"Thank you."

Sam lands nimbly on the balcony of his father's penthouse. The sun went down a few hours ago, so he's grateful for the soft light spilling out the windows, giving him just enough illumination to move around without bumping into the furniture or miniature palms that decorate the space.

After tucking his wings away, he heads inside, stripping off his leather jacket. He's glad he didn't remove it at the hospital-his shirt sleeve is caked with blood from where he had been shot. Nobody except maybe Charlie would have understood that the wound itself had healed about ten minutes after he yanked the bullet out with a pair of long tweezers he had borrowed while the nurses were occupied elsewhere.

His father is tinkering with something behind the bar. "How's the detec-your partner, doing?" He asks as he turns around.

Sam notes the hasty amendment, but doesn't comment on it. To his father, there was only one "Detective" and it would always be Sam's mother.

"She's fine." He says, accepting the glass of scotch his father offers him. "When I left, Charlie had just arrived to walk her through the paperwork, so at least we know she'll get a good night's sleep." He makes a face. It's no secret that he finds most paperwork boring.

His father's gaze flickers over Sam's shirtsleeve. "And your arm?"

Sam rolls his shoulder experimentally and winces. It aches like a bad bruise. "Not too bad. I should be fine by tomorrow morning." He sighs as he fingers the bloodstain. "I should have had Clive arrested just for ruining a perfectly good shirt. I'll grab a spare one from my duffle in a minute."

His father didn't throw quite as many lavish parties as he had before he settled down with Sam's mother and started a family, but Sam always keeps a bag with fresh clothes tucked away under the desk in his father's office, just in case.

His father nods absently. "Good. That's good." He puts his own glass, untouched, down on the bar. "About earlier…"

Sam tilts his head. Today has been especially long, in his opinion. "Which earlier? Earlier this morning or this afternoon?"

"Our...discussion at the precinct."

"You mean our fight?"

"Yes, that." His father lets out a slow breath. "I'm sure I've told you plenty of times just how much resentment I have for my own father…"

Sam just takes another sip of scotch, waiting patiently. He has heard many variations of his father and grandfather's falling out over the years.

"Resentment that stems from the fact that at no point as he ever once apologized to me for...well, anything." His father turns the black and silver ring on his finger idly. "This has caused quite a separation between the two of us, one that I don't think can ever be fully repaired." His father's gaze focuses on Sam. "I don't want that to happen between you and me."

"Dad-"

"No, listen." His father holds up a commanding hand. "It was wrong, the way I acted when your mother...died." Hearing his father say the actual words gives him a jolt, but Sam remains silent. "I left because I didn't trust myself not to turn back into the person I was before. The...monster I turned myself into. I thought you would be better off without me. It didn't occur to me that you might feel abandoned." His father's voice is bitter. "For what it is worth, I'm sorry. You have every right to be angry with me."

Sam sighs wearily. "Dad, I wasn't angry because you left. I was angry because you didn't even tell me you were going." He can't help the frustration that flares again at the memory. "I would have understood if you needed to leave. I know how much Mom meant to you. But you didn't even leave me a bloody note."

"And I should have." His father agrees. "But I was afraid that if I told you why I was going, you would try to talk me out of it." His father ducks his head. "I shouldn't have gotten so upset about your visit to Heaven. You were right-you don't need my permission to see your own mother. I suppose I'm just jealous. You can see her whenever you want. I can't, and probably won't ever again." His father's sincere tone is dampened by misery as he remembers just how long that will be. He carefully doesn't look at Sam. "Is she...happy, up there?"

Sam hesitates. He knows this is dangerous ground. "She's not _unhappy_. I mean, she gets to be with her dad, remember." Sam's maternal grandfather, John Decker, had been killed long before Sam was born, when his mother was still a child actress. He's one of the first people Sam goes to see on his rare visits to the Silver City. "And Nana, too." Sam's maternal grandmother had died only a couple of years before her daughter did. "But it's not like she doesn't miss you. She loves you. Being in Heaven doesn't change that, any more than it did back when she was on Earth and you were in Hell."

Sam sets down his glass. Now is as good a time as any to come clean. "Look, Dad, the truth is I didn't go up to Heaven to visit Mom." He takes a deep breath. "I went there to talk to Grandfather."

His father stares at him, the glass in his hand raised halfway to his mouth.

"He talked to you?" He asks, a strange note is his voice.

"I took Charlie with me. We figured He would be more likely to listen to both of us. I mean, we are His only legitimate grandsons." Sam watches his father carefully. "He and I made a deal. For the next fifty years, if you can continue to help humanity-by punishing evil the right way-then Grandfather is willing to rescind your banishment from Heaven." Sam leans towards his father. "You can be with Mom. For the rest of eternity, if that's what you want."

Sam is not entirely sure his father is breathing. "What?" He croaks.

"That's why I went to talk to Mom. That's why she suggested bringing you back to working at the L.A.P.D. I mean, just look at what you did today. You kept me and Joy from being killed, and helped take down a father-son murder team. You fought on the side of good, Dad. You helped get justice for that poor girl. Surely that's better than letting yourself waste away up here." Sam gestures to the penthouse.

"My father would never make that deal."

"He already did." Sam takes another sip from his glass. "That's the other reason I brought Charlie with me. He witnessed the deal and agreed to make sure both parties honored the terms. We agreed that you can still throw the occasional party, run Lux on the side, if you want to. Consulting with the police just gives you the opportunity to be your best self-like when you and Mom were partners." Sam smiles at his father proudly.

His father does not smile back. "And what, exactly, are the terms of the agreement?" He asks slowly. "What does He get out of all this?"

Sam doesn't meet his father's eyes. "There hasn't been a ruler for Hell since you retired permanently." His father retired to Earth for good about two years before Sam was born. "In exchange for you returning to Heaven, I agreed to rule Hell in your stead."

His father slams his glass down on the bar. "No. Absolutely not." He stalks around the bar, though where he's headed Sam cannot fathom. Possibly to the balcony to berate Sam's grandfather out in the open.

Sam grabs his father's arm before he can do something stupid. "Dad, listen to me." He says hurriedly. "Yes, the demons have been well-contained for the past couple of decades, but only because they know that you're on here on Earth. They fear your wrath too much to risk coming back here. But once you're back in Heaven, they'll might try to wreak havoc on Earth again. Somebody needs to rule them. And it's not like I'm leaving now. I still got fifty years to get my business in order. I'll have lived a whole human lifetime before it's time for me to go. But instead of going to the Silver City after I die, I'll rule Hell."

His father spins around. "I never wanted that for you."

"I know. That's why I volunteered."

His father sputters. "You volunteered?" He gapes at Sam in disbelief. "Do you have any idea what it's like to run Hell?"

Sam smiles a little. "I figure fifty years gives you plenty of time to teach me how." He softens his voice. "This isn't like when you were sent to rule Hell, Dad. This was my choice."

"But why would you do that?" His father asks desperately. "This isn't a simple career change, son. This is _ruling Hell_."

Sam nods. "I know what I'm getting into. I didn't make this decision lightly, Dad." He tucks his hands in his pockets. "You think I don't see how hard you try? I know you've always wanted to be a better father to me than Grandfather was to you. I get it. I mean, this was the first time in my life that He talked to me directly." Sam smiles ruefully. "Which made me realize that's why you always needed to be involved in every part of my life, no matter how much it drove me crazy. You felt like Grandfather was never there for you, so you did everything you could to show that you would be there for me."

Sam takes a breath, meets his father's gaze. "You and Mom raised me to believe that I always have a choice. That no matter what, I control my own fate. It's because of that, because you supported me, _believed _in me for my entire life, that led to my decision to take over Hell. You fought hard to make sure I never had to go through what you did; all the self-doubt, rejection, and bitterness. It didn't seem fair to me that you overcame all of that just to spend the rest of eternity alone and miserable." Sam gives his father a hesitant smile. "I love you, Dad, and Mom too. I want you both to be happy. If me ruling Hell after I die is what it takes, then that is what I'll do."

One moment his father is staring at him, the next he has Sam in a bone-crushing hug. Sam is so startled that it takes him a minute before he returns it.

He can't help but bury his face in his father's shoulder, tears pricking his eyes.

They stay that way for several minutes before finally breaking apart, his father cupping the back of Sam's head in a caress.

"It always amazes me," He says with a wry smile, his eyes tear-bright. "How I can be pissed off and proud of you at the same time."

Sam lets out a wet chuckle. His father has never been shy in letting Sam know he was proud, but it was almost always said in conjunction with how Sam had irritated him first.

"Like father, like son, right?" He grins as he follows his father back to the bar. "After all, you chose to return to Hell after the demons tried to kidnap Charlie." That had been one of his favorite stories growing up.

His father pours them both another drink, bourbon this time. "Yes, but I hated every second of it. I never would have chosen that life for you."

"This isn't the same, Dad. This is a choice, not a punishment." Sam takes the glass his father holds out. "Perhaps I'll mix things up when I take over." He swirls the bourbon in his glass. "You know, rearrange the furniture. A splash of paint would do wonders for the feng shui." He gives his father a wicked smile.

He doesn't mention the other part of his plan, about how he wants to see if it's possible to redeem the souls of the damned. He knows that humans are dragged down to Hell by their own guilt. Perhaps, like his father, they just need guidance on how to start forgiving themselves for their crimes.

His father still looks a bit worried. "And what happens when you get tired of ruling?" He demands. "Eternity is a long time."

"You would know, being _literally_ older than dirt." He returns impudently. Teasing his dad about his age has always been one of Sam's favorite pastimes. "I'll be allowed to visit Earth, or Heaven, on occasion. And Charlie has offered to fill in for me a few times a year so I can have some well-deserved time off. And you're always welcome to come visit. Just because you're being allowed back into Heaven doesn't mean you can't take a day trip down to Hell." He pretends to think about it. "But, you know, call first."

For the first time in hours, his father smiles. He holds up his glass, and Sam clinks his own against it in a toast.

"Do you have plans for tonight?" His father asks after they both finish off their drinks. "I was going to go downstairs and make sure Maze hasn't run Lux into the ground in my absence."

Sam thinks of the pile of paperwork that is most assuredly on his desk by now, along with a furious note from Charlie demanding he file his reports on the Fleming case.

But after a year of feeling alone, abandoned, he has no problem pushing all that aside until tomorrow morning.

"No, no plans." Sam eagerly jumps up from his seat. "Just let me get a clean shirt out of my bag. Give me two minutes."

He hears his father laugh quietly behind him as he bolts out of the room.

Joy checks the slip of paper in her hand and determines that this is the correct address. She hurries up the pretty, flower-lined walkway to the front door, her fingers playing nervous arpeggios in the air.

It has been a week since they arrested Clive and Todd Fleming, a week since she got shot. Her shoulder still aches a little, but not so bad that she can't go back to work on Monday. She's looking forward to it. Being forced to spend several days home alone convalescing, even with Gabby dropping in almost every day to check on her, was starting to wear on her nerves. Although Lucifer's offer to let her play on his piano had cheered her up a bit in that regard.

She had spent an hour in the penthouse yesterday, listening to Lucifer rattle on about all the great musicians he had "taught" over the centuries as they sat together at the piano, jumping from classical pieces to rock to the occasional pop ballad. Underneath the eccentric, somewhat overbearing exterior there was genuine kindness in Lucifer, and she had been more than happy to accept his invitation to come over and play the piano with him again.

She raps at the door, nervously shifting from foot to foot. Gabby had talked a little bit about the family dinner when she came to visit, but not enough to tell Joy exactly what to expect.

The door opens, and Joy blinks up at the tall, black man who stands in front of her. There is enough similarity between him and Lieutenant Martin that she thinks this must be Sam's uncle, Amenadiel.

"You must be Joy." He says. He has a deep, friendly voice and already Joy feels herself relaxing, her fingers finally coming to rest at her side. "I've heard a lot about you. Come in."

Joy returns his smile gratefully and steps into the tastefully decorated house. The inside is large, airy, and open. While not as lavish as Lucifer's penthouse, there's a comfortable, lived in quality that reminds Joy of her childhood home. The inside is simply bursting with the sounds of conversations, arguments, and laughter, and Joy is a little stunned by the amount of people who have crammed themselves into one place.

Sprawled on the couch are Maze and Eve, the former's legs draped over her girlfriend's lap. Eve glances in Joy's direction and gives her a big smile and waves. Joy waves back. She found that she liked the sweet, buoyant Eve.

The jury was still out on Maze.

"I'm sorry, I didn't introduce myself. I'm Amenadiel, Charlie's father." Amenadiel shakes her hand. "My son speaks very highly of you."

Joy shakes her head. "Oh, well, I don't know if he should. I mean, the first day on the job I got shot!" She laughs self-consciously.

"You got shot protecting your partner." Amenadiel corrects her gently. "That kind of selflessness is rare. My nephew is lucky to have you working with him."

Joy, reminded why she is here, cranes her neck to find Sam. She spots him at the dining room table with the Lieutenant, Trixie, and Bella, playing cards in their hands and a pile of cash in the middle of the table. Sam is happier than she's ever seen him. He has an easy smile on his face, and his bickering with the Lieutenant is more good-natured here than it had been at the precinct. She notices that like the rest of the group, the Lieutenant has forgone his stiff work attire in favor of a nice pair of jeans and a polo shirt. Sam, meanwhile, is almost unnaturally attractive in pale-grey button-down shirt and tan slacks. She wonders with some amusement if her partner has ever dressed casually for anything.

Joy leans towards Amenadiel. "Are they playing poker?" she murmurs. "With a ten-year-old?"

Amenadiel's teeth flash in a grin. "Don't underestimate that girl. She's already won three hands out of five. At this rate, Sam and Charlie are going to be funding her college tuition."

Joy bites back a grin when she sees Bella triumphantly lay her cards down on the table, and Sam and the Lieutenant groan. Trixie laughs.

"Come on, come inside and meet everyone." Amenadiel encourages, nudging her further into the room. He points to the petite woman currently pulling out a stack of plates from one of the cupboards. "This is my wife, Linda. Charlie's mother."

Joy hides her surprise. If she had been asked to picture the Lieutenant's mother, this fair-haired woman would not have been it. Not that she isn't lovely, with her blonde hair only just starting to fade and a round, pleasant face. She isn't much taller than Joy, meaning she's a full head shorter than Amenadiel and the Lieutenant.

Then the woman pushes her glasses up her nose and gives Joy a smile that is identical to her son's.

"It's so nice to meet you, Joy." She comes around the counter to shake Joy's hand. "Sam and Charlie have told us a lot about you. I'm so glad you could make it."

Joy smiles back. "Thank you for inviting me. I know this is typically a family thing…"

"Don't be silly." Linda waves her hand. "Sam's mom, Chloe, was a good friend of mine. I know she would have wanted us to invite you." Joy notes the sadness that clouds the woman's expression for a moment. "I'm just glad you were feeling well enough to join us." Linda gestures to Joy's shoulder, still bandaged.

"Well, it was either this or spend another day eating soup out of a can and watching bad T.V." Joy grins.

Linda's smile remains sympathetic, but her tone switches to professional. "How are you doing, otherwise? No nightmares, no PTSD symptoms like anxiety?" Linda peers closely at Joy's face. "Remember, those are all understandable reactions to trauma."

Joy remembers belatedly that Sam's aunt is a therapist. "No, none of that. I'm really ok." She tilts her head. "I'm not going to be billed for this, am I?"

Linda laughs softly. "No. But if you ever need to talk, I'm available." Something about the way she says this makes Joy think that the Lieutenant or Sam told the doctor about her past. She would be upset, but Linda's empathetic demeanor and the genuine concern in her face have done a lot to ease Joy's nerves.

"Joy!" Gabby comes bouncing from out of the kitchen, dragging a woman who looks like a mature version of herself behind her. "I'm so glad you're here. I wanted to introduce you to my mom. _Mami_, this is one I told you about."

Joy grunts in surprise as the woman immediately enfolds her in a hug, taking care not to squeeze Joy too hard. "It's great to finally meet you, Joy." She leans back to give Joy a bright, generous smile. Like with Sam and the Lieutenant, it's easy to tell which parent Gabby favors. "I'm Ella."

"Ah, yeah, nice to meet you too." Joy says, a little dazed by the exuberant welcome. "I see where Gabby gets her enthusiasm from."

"Yeah, she takes after me, all right." Ella says, running a motherly hand over Gabby's hair. Joy feels a brief pang at the gesture. "But honestly, I've been looking forward to meeting you all week. Gabby's told us all about you."

"I can't imagine how she has the time, seeing as she visits me almost every day." Joy aims a teasing glance at the other woman. One of the best things from this whole experience, she thinks with affection, is meeting Gabby, who has quickly become a close friend. "She's taken such good care of me."

Ella slings an arm around her daughter. "That's what she's good at."

Gabby beams.

There's a ding from the kitchen, and Ella's head spins around. "Those would be the tamales." She winks at Joy. "I hope you're hungry, because we got quite the spread on the way." She gives her daughter one more hug and hurries back into the kitchen.

"That reminds me, Joy, do you want something to-Samael John Decker, put that flask away _right now_." Joy starts with surprise when Linda's hospitable tone abruptly changes to stern mid-sentence.

She whips her head around to see Sam quickly returning a black flask to his pants pocket.

"What else was I supposed to bet with?" He complains. "The little monster has taken all of my money." Bella giggles as her mother, who had been leaning back in her chair to talk with Maze, lurches forward to punch Sam in his shoulder.

The Lieutenant catches Joy's eye and shakes his head, but she can see a smile forming on his mouth. Like Sam, he's more relaxed here than he is at the precinct, though he has not shed the air of responsibility quite as easily as Sam.

Sam spots her and brightens. "I fold." He tells the group. He jumps up from the table and nudges Gabby. "Gabby, tag in. Try to win me some of my money back."

"It's your own fault for teaching her poker in the first place." When Sam just looks at her, she sighs dramatically. "Fine, I'll go save you...again." Her eyes dancing behind her glasses, she whirls around to join the game. The Lieutenant throws an arm over her shoulder as she starts to shuffle the deck.

"Only one more hand." Linda calls out. "Dinner is almost ready. And you-" She points to Sam firmly. "Behave yourself."

"Yes, Auntie." He says meekly.

With a shake of her head, Linda heads back into the kitchen to gather plates and silverware, Amenadiel right behind her.

Joy smiles at her partner. "Do you get in trouble at every family gathering?" She asks in a low voice.

"You call that trouble?" His smile is all charm. "Trust me, you haven't seen real trouble yet. You are looking exceptionally lovely today." He scrutinizes her outfit. She hadn't been sure how much to dress up, so she compromised with a pale green blouse and her fanciest pair of black jeans. She's left her hair down so it falls in soft waves to her shoulders. "You would never guess that you were shot a few days ago."

"Slick." She says dryly. "Maybe next time you should ask if it hurt when I fell from Heaven."

"Why would I ask that?" He's genuinely confused. "Do you know how difficult it is to get in and out of Heaven? You would have to be almost supernaturally clumsy to just fall out of that place."

Joy laughs. "You're ridiculous."

"Ridiculously good-looking." He corrects her with a smug tilt of his head. "I heard you and my father spent some time together the other day." He looks at her expectantly.

"Yeah, we did. It was strangely fun." It had been, she thinks to herself. But also…

"I hid the book under the chair cushions, like you asked."

Sam's eyes are bright with laughter. "Did he see you?" He'd been delighted when she agreed to help him with the prank.

"No, I did it while he was getting a drink." It had been hard to keep a straight face, after she'd done it.

"Excellent. You are as clever as you are beautiful, Joy." He beams at her.

She smiles. After a week she's used to his charisma. "Thanks. Just don't expect me to jump in front of a bullet for you in all our cases."

Sam's flirtatious attitude disappears, and his eyes light up. "Does this mean you want to continue being partners?" He asks hopefully.

She can tell that this has been worrying him. "Well, I'm not just going to give up now." She says. Distantly, she hears a knock at the door behind her. Amenadiel walks past them, looking curious. "I wanted to work in a department where I can make a difference. And I thought we made a pretty good team."

"We did, didn't we?" He says, pleased.

Joy is faintly aware of the door being opened and Amenadiel talking to someone. "Yeah, we did. Me, you...and your dad." She adds dryly. Sam lets out a soft laugh. "Unless he's really going back into retirement." She knows that father and son have worked out their issues, but Lucifer hadn't given her indication that he wanted to continue consulting, and she can tell by the way Sam's brow furrows that he isn't sure either.

"I don't know. He hasn't said anything since I mentioned it, so probably-" Sam's eyes drift to a spot behind her shoulder and widen. "_Dad?_"

Joy whirls around and sure enough, there is Lucifer standing in the entryway next to Amenadiel. He's dressed impeccably as always, this time in a camel-colored three-piece suit, hands in his pockets. The entire room, so full of noise a moment ago, has gone silent as everyone turns to witness his arrival.

Joy has to fight to keep her mouth from falling open. Yesterday when she had been at the penthouse, she had mentioned being invited to the family dinner as a guest, but Lucifer had abruptly changed the subject. She never would have imagined he would actually show up, and from the expressions on everyone else's face, this is a surprise for all of them.

Lucifer raises his eyebrows. "Well, you can hardly call this a party if I'm not here, can you?" He's trying to sound haughty, but there's an odd note of vulnerability is his voice, as if he isn't quite certain of his welcome. "Though from the distinct lack of alcohol, I don't believe you could call this much of a party anyway."

"Lucifer!" Linda sounds both pleased and shocked by his sudden appearance. She abandons her task of setting the table and hurries over. "We weren't expecting you." A slow smile lights up her features. "You're just in time, we were just going to serve dinner. And there's wine." Joy hears Sam's aunt murmur to Lucifer as she pulls him further inside.

"That's it?" Lucifer mutters, but he doesn't sound too upset by it. Amenadiel claps his brother lightly on the shoulder, still hovering next to the door as if to make sure Lucifer doesn't try and bolt.

Joy turns around to see Sam blinking rapidly, trying to fight back strong emotions. The conversations in the room pick back up again as Lucifer follows Linda further into the house, brushing a hand over his son's shoulder as he passes by him.

She waits until Lucifer is far enough away so that he can't hear them, and leans closer to Sam. "I think we may have our answer."

"Yeah. Yeah, I think we do." Sam gives her a brilliant smile. "It looks like the Devil is finally going back to work."


End file.
